


The Master, the Pet and the Cub

by xiria14



Series: Behind Closed Doors [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anal toys, BDSM, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Dubious Consent, First Time, Het and Slash, Humbler, Multi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, Slavery, Slow Build, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, f/m/m/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 53,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiria14/pseuds/xiria14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Part of my collection Behind Closed Doors: The answers to different challenges and request about my favorite threesome, sometimes all together, sometimes in other variations, who discover the many different pleasures of the flesh.  </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>.<br/>Chapter 1 - The Master, the Pet and the Cub_PART 1: INTRODUCTION  Robb is given the acquisition of two slaves. Two quite willful slaves<br/>Chapter 2 - The Master, the Pet and the Cub_PART 2: DEMONSTRATION  Robb starts the training of his two slaves, Jon and Theon, who are both recalcitrant and confused as they get deeper into slavery.<br/>Chapter 3 - The Master, the Pet and the Cub_PART 3: ACCEPTATION In which Robb decides to use some well needed help to break his willful, recalcitrant slaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Master, the Pet and the Cub_PART: INTRODUCTION

**Author's Note:**

> This whole work should be a collection of many prompts I want to fill for the ASOIF Kink Meme. Seeing as I have a lot of smut between Jon, Theon and Robb in many variations, I dedicate this work to the many challenges I have about them. These will be novels of varying length that I will post sporadically (when I have something ready). These works will have each a chapter, and be mostly independent from one another, the only link between them being that it's smut with my three favorite protagonists.
> 
> For this chapter, the prompt is: 
> 
> 1\. Robb/Theon/Jon; Crossdressin (Anonymous 2014-06-14 03:29 am (UTC)  
> Theon always teased Jon about how he would look good in women' clothing. Robb usually stand for Jon but one time, when drunk, he agreed with Theon.  
> Jon, just to prove a point, steals Sansa' clothes and dress up, showing up in the room of a very drunk Theon and an equally drunk Robb.  
> What started as a game, develops into something Jon would've never expected but that he clearly enjoys.
> 
> (If canon or modern is up to the writer)
> 
>  
> 
> First, I want to mention that I tried at first to keep it to the challenge. But I might have had too much fun writting it and I have strayed slightly. I hope you still enjoy!
> 
> Second: Neliore has already answered this challenge, and quite brilliantly at that. Some parts are lightly inspired from her (or his? sorry!) fic I want To Be A Girl Like You! Read it!  
> By the way, I have a HUGE list of prompts I want to fill. I rolled the dices to pick out what would be next and laughed at the coincidence of picking Neliore's prompt a few days after I Want To Be A Girl Like You got out. It's fortunate I had wanted to do it canonical to begin with
> 
> Third: English is not my first language, but I really love it and it is definitely something I want to improve greatly. If anyone picks on mistakes I do, please tell me. I'd like to get better. For this fic I have tried to better my verb tenses and the "S" I always forget to put when using a third person. I hope I got better at it!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb is given the acquisition of two slaves. Two quite willful slaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Slavery, BDSM, Dub con  
> Here is the filling of this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> **Any/Jon/Theon**  
>  **(Anonymous)2013-12-02 04:47 am (UTC)**  
>  **BDSM AU with Jon and Theon as subs or pleasure slaves who are undergoing training for their new master or mistress. A lot of punishment and humiliation and obedience training because both Jon and Theon are proud and resistant at first. Training can be at the hands of their new master/mistress or a third party. Kinks I love in this situation are leash and collar kink (especially posture collars), chastity devices, objectification, public exhibition. Most kinks are okay exciting for watersports, scat, or disfigurement. Can be set in the modern world or Westeros.**
> 
>    
> The funny thing about this fic is that to fill this prompt, I took my inspiration from the book Claiming Beauty, from Anne Rice. I tried to adapt her universe to the one of Westeros, giving it my own interpretation while keeping the characters as much canon as possible and putting them in an accepted slavery/sex slavery situation. By answering the BDSM Any/Jon/Theon, I answered this other prompt:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Any/Any, fusion with Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty triology (dub-con?)**  
>  **(Anonymous)**  
>  **2013-12-02 05:28 am (UTC)**  
>  **Reposting this from the last round because it's awesome.**  
>  **The nobles of Westeros are sent to other Houses to serve as sex slaves in their youths, where they receive frequent spankings and other punishment, as well as having to perform sexually with both genders.**
> 
>  
> 
>  I hope both Anon OP will find this work in their taste!
> 
> Now, I kind of went overboard by writing this fic while satisfying many, many, MANY of my own kinks! So this fic is kind of long and will exceed easily the 30 000K, if not the 40 000K. So I split this work in three parts: INTRODUCTION, which is all about Robb acquiring Theon and Jon as his new slaves to train, then explaining them what their slavery will entail, DEMONSTRATION, which is all about Theon and Jon getting their first tastes of BDSM practices, and ACCEPTATION, which is all about the progression of their training.
> 
> DEMONSTRATION should be coming soon. I'm revising it. As for ACCEPTATION, It's still in progress
> 
> Enjoy, and please feel free to comment, critic or suggest!
> 
> PS: Robb is twenty, while Theon is seventeen and Jon sixteen.

_In the same notion than Claiming beauty: Westeros’ whole harmony rests under the old tradition that to become a lord, a lady or someone of great position; a leader in other word, said person most bear ill treatment, humiliation and discipline so that the small people would get confident that they are lead by wise people, who understands them and will know to treat them with as much deference as they deserve. As such, it is a duty for the seven Warden of the Seven Kingdom of Westeros to supervise the discipline of the future lords and ladies, ensuring their wisdom and good consideration towards their servants. Because, after all, what would be a lord without his people?_

PART 1   
INTRODUCTION 

 

Ned sighs as he takes a long, appraising look at the two young men standing in front of his desk, both looking down nervously. The first one, Theon Greyjoy, has dark hairs and light blue eyes of the same hue of seawater on the seashore. It really is fitting, seeing as the pale, wiry lad comes from Pike, capital of the Iron Island. He has the look of a young pirate from his homeland, although there’s something gentler in him than he has seen in many a boy there. He assumes he can understand with only one look why Balon Greyjoy, previous king of the Iron Island and now Lord under King Robert of the Seven Kingdom, would dismiss the lad as a weakling. Although, as a father, Ned could only feel outraged at this lack of paternal affection. Yet the fact remains that Theon Greyjoy doesn’t have the mean, brutal look of an Ironborn reaver, as a leader of there should. 

The 17 years old lad is now looking at the inkpot standing on Ned’s desk with a look which screams mutiny. Seeing how the lad has already tried to escape his fate twice, breaking a man’s arm and causing the loss of two teeth to another, Ned could only feel wary toward the quietly seething lad. That one would be a tough challenge, that he could be sure.  
Just as the other lad would be, although for different reasons. 

Ned lookes at said lad, just beside Theon. He is a tad bit smaller, although not by much, and slightly buffer around the chest and the belly. Even younger, he has started pulling on more muscles than Theon from his sword training. He has dark curls, which fall gracefully around his pretty face and nearly reach his shoulders. His skin is as light as milk, and his eyes are as grey as dark smoke over a fire. He has the clear coloring of House Stark, and even looks like a young wolf with the dark fur adorning the collar of his cloak. 

This has brought no end of furious glares from Ned’s wife, Catelyn Stark, who thinks it unfair that Ned’s bastard son looks more like a Stark than all the children she has given him, but for her last daughter Arya. Even their heir, Robb, has the Tully look of his mother’s side of the family. No amount of Ned saying that it doesn’t matter to him how their children look like, as long as they are healthy, has soothed his outraged wife. She has kept looking at him with despise and treating him as an unwanted stranger ever since the moment she has laid eyes on him as an infant. 

Ned has raised the young man, Jon Snow, as his own son, alongside his trueborn children. The boy has always bore a look of melancholy, certainly due to the absence of a mother figure in his life. Yet he has always acted in the most honorable fashion, harbouring the best behavior seeing as he has never wanted to bring more shame on the Stark name, as the surname Snow sure already has done. He has always listened attentively to his teachers’ lessons, has never shown any ill behaviour or attracted bad attention on himself. Ned has no doubt he would ma a great Second for Robb one day. 

Somehow what is to come should seem easier because of his docile behaviour. Yet the real challenge is more because Jon will remain in Winterfell for what is to come, with people he’s known and who have known him all his life. The worst would certainly be Robb’s part in it. Yet Ned would not back down on his decision.

Ned raises his head when he hears a series of footsteps approaching his solar in a hurried fashion. Not long after, Jory opens the door to let Ned’s eldest son, Robb, enter the room, soon followed by his angry mother, Rodrick Cassel and Maester Luwin. Added to Ned, the two lads in front of his desk and the four guards positioned at two corners of the room, Ned’s solar is now more crowded than it has ever been. Fortunately, seeing as it is a big room, which can accommodate different tables, maps and accommodation; it isn’t crowded to the point of anyone walking on another’s foot. 

Ned observes that everyone is positioned in a half circle back to Jon and Theon, who shake nervously in front of Ned’s desk. Theon looks sideways at the small crowd with wide eyes while Jon stares at some dent in the table with eyes both confused and horrified. Ned braces himself, his hands supporting himself on his desk as he looks at everyone there.

Robb looks both intrigued and concerned, certainly having guessed what is happening, yet still ignorant of the details. Every other men look straight ahead with cool composure, used by now to the drill, even for master Luwin, who throws pitied looks and sympathetic glares at the two lads from time to time. Catelyn, as for herself, looks icy cold and detached as her eyes are trained on both the child of her perpetual family’s enemies and the proof of Ned’s adultery. 

Ned’s ears still ring from her shouting when she has heard his plans about the two of them. She was angry at the idea of welcoming the Ironborn heir in their castle, even though he was for nothing in the rebellion or the centuries of raids on her people by his ancestors. But the worst part of the argument was when he told her his plan about Jon. She argued about how the boy should be sent to Robert, Stannis, or Roose Bolton or even Oberyn Martell, who have all made offers. But the truth, the one that Ned has not told his wife, is that he could not entrust Jon to any of them. He could not take such a risk. He has promised. 

Ned clears his throat, dreading the words he’s going to say. Yet it is his duty to voice them. He looks again at the two nervous lads, then at Robb, his twenty years old heir, who already looks like a fine lord despite his young age. He certainly has the body of a strong, tall and elegant man anyway. With clear blue eyes and coppery curls, the same shade as the stubble on his jaws and chin, his son looks like his mother. He certainly has her coloring anyway. Yet there’s something of the Stark in the straight lines of his nose and jaws, in the way he furrows his brows and his way of standing straight. It is unfortunate that his mother only sees the blue eyes and the red hairs of the Tully. There is more Stark in him that she seems to realise. Robb looks back at him, chin raised in challenge. He will do fine, Ned thinks to himself, proud of the man his son has become.

With that last thought in mind, Ned utters the words his duty imposes on him.

 

“With the authority which has been given to me by King Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdom, I, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, decrees that these two young men, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow, are now declared properties of the North. Their enslavement shall be immediate, and last for as long as I decide. Their rights and properties shall be forsaken, seeing as they are now properties themselves. No laws, no rights and no former words should protect them, as they are now at the total mercy of their new masters. They shall not find help, solace or rescue by any people of the North, as they are now slaves to their masters, who will have total authority over them and their wellbeing. If they try to escape or avoid chastisement, it is the duty of every Northerner to diligently bring these slaves back to their masters. They have no more title, or name, and as such, are now relegated to stand below even the least wealthy servant of the North. 

Seeing as he will one day succeed me and govern the North under the King’s authority, I entrust these two slaves under the tutelage of their new legitimate master, Robb Stark. As the tradition requires, their new master shall provide discipline and punishments so as to shape these two slaves into obedience and respect, yet he shall provide for them so that their life are not endangered. If I judge that their new master is not doing his task as he should, I shall intervene at my own discretion. Just as I have the authority to give them to their new master, I reserve the right to retrieve them and redistribute them to another party when I wish, with no further explanation.”

“Now, I call their new master to step forward and take possession of the two slaves.” 

The reaction is immediate. The moment Ned says the word “slave” for the first time, Jon gasps loudly and starts shaking in shock, eyes widened in horror as he fight to regain his breath. He has to support himself on his side of Ned’s desk to remain standing. As for Theon, the Ironborn is so infuriated by this all that his whole body shakes in barely contained rage, hands clenched on Ned’s desk so tight that his knuckles turn white to refrain from hitting something. He’s looking down with nostrils flared and jaws clenched so hard that Ned has no doubt that they will be sore for the next hours or so.

As prompted to, Robb steps forward and walks the few steps it takes to take him beside Ned, in front of the desk and so, facing his two new charges. Ned is proud as his heir does not waver one instant at the sight of the two lads he would have to train into humility and subservience. He does not even flinch at the sight of his half-brother looking at him in shock and horror. Robb’s eyes barely soften, but he remains stoic and straight. His voice is slightly shaky when he starts talking, but it wins in confidence pretty fast and remains strong and firm thereafter.

“It is in great gratitude and with a great honor that I, Robb Stark, heir to Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, accept these two new slaves as my charges. In the name of all the people of the North, I will make it my duty to insure these two slaves are broken into obedience and servitude, and that they will shine from their humility and deference.

Now, seeing as these slaves are now property, and thus cannot own anything of their own, I ask for anything they could call theirs to be brought forward.”

At this order, the two pairs of guards posted at their corner of the solar step forward and bring to the two new slaves bags containing their possession. Ned could only feel a pang of sympathy at the sight of the pitifully small bag of Theon Greyjoy, former prince of his homeland. His bag seems to contain only some spare cloths and some minor possession. Even Jon, a bastard son, has been given more possessions, his many spare clothes and properties filling one bag and a half. When Theon looks sideway and get a sight of Jon’s bags, he lowers his head even more in shame. Robb seems to notice, seeing how his eyes soften even more in pity as he looks at the stranger lad. His voice his softer as he resumes his talk, addressing it solely to his new charges this time.

“You have this one and only chance to decide for yourself what to do with the properties you cannot own anymore. Give to me what is precious and would feel like too great a loss for you. I will stock it away as my own. What is not precious enough to give to me will be given to the North and redistributed accordingly to the needs for them. If you feel like you need to get rid of something and don’t think it wise that anybody else should own it, put it in the fireplace to burn or in front of it so that we see to its destruction later. I will give you a small moment to sort your possessions. Start now.”

Two guards bring forward a chest that they deposit and open up in front of Robb, clearly meant to hold what Jon and Theon want to confide to Robb. Ned is glad to see Jon kneeling down right away to start sorting through his possessions, hands shaking near as much as his lips. Maybe Ned should have warned him about what was coming. Jon has not even been told why he was summoned in Ned’s solar before hearing the declaration of his slavery. Yet Ned has the feeling that it would not have been much better to announce him that he would soon be slave at his home place, by a brother he has loved all his life. It might even have been more unnerving that way, what with the anticipation of it and the waiting.

Jon starts to stack different piles of his belongings, mostly clothes, books, knives and some small luxuries and token given he’s been given to through his childhood. Theon watches him for a while, eyes filled with contempt and powerless rage. Then he kneels too and turns over his own bag so that his few belongings fall on the floor. 

In the end, Jon puts in Robb’s chest all his books, most of his knives and some precious gifts given to him by his relatives. The rest all get back in one bag that he drops in front of Ned’s desk, looking in grief. As for Theon, it isn’t long before he throws most his clothes in the fire. Those being from the Iron Island make them near useless for the Northern people. He only puts one bow and one knife in Robb’s chest, then looks at his last possession for a long while. It is a small wooden sculpture of a kraken, roughly done and badly discolored from time. Yet the lad looks at it as if it is his most precious belonging. It comes as a surprise when he walks toward the fire to see it destroyed. Even more surprising is Robb joining him in front of the fire and holding his wrist just before the token falls to its destruction. He murmurs something in his charge’s ear, something so quiet that nobody but the slave hears it. Shaking all over, shoulder hunched and head hanging low, the Ironborn nods weakly then lets Robb take the kraken from his hand and bring it to his chest. 

“You will need to undress too. These clothes do not belong to you anymore.” Robb says in a gentle voice.

Both lads look stricken at that. They remain frozen in place for a long while, until Theon shrugs his shoulders in total despair and starts undressing. Jon, though, looks at Robb as if he has grown a second head. 

“Robb…” He tries to say, eyes outraged as he throws small looks to the people around him, his eyes staying longer on Lady Stark. 

But Robb wastes no time in cutting him, staring coldly at him while bellowing in a firm, authoritative voice.

“From now on it’s my Lord, or Master, or Master Robb when you’re not addressing me directly. No more such familiarities will be tolerated.” 

Jon flinches at that, looking down like a kicked puppy. But he does start undressing, putting each garment in the bag, but for a silver brooch of a direwolf and his belt, a fine work of leather and metal pieces. As for Theon, only his breeches, the plain tunic and his belt remain to be given. The rest, his doublet with a kraken on it and the cloak with his sigil are put into the fire to burn. Both lads, once in the nude, shake from the cold as well as blush and look down, Jon even going as far as to try to cover his groin with his hands.

“Hands aside!” 

Robb orders with firmness, which makes Jon move both hands away from his groin and clench them into fists at his sides.

They come to the last part of the ritual, at last. Ned already fancies the good cup of wine he will drink in his rooms to sooth his nerves after such a nerves wracking event. He feels a point of guilt at the relief of not being the one to have to take care of the two slaves after. His own, Samwell and Smalljon, would be a relief beside the two new slaves to break. Samwell is already all meek and obedient, while Smalljon is mostly trained but still have some fight in him, which isn’t astonishing seeing who is his father. 

Ned takes the two caskets which have been deposed on the desk and hands them to Robb so that he could end their little ceremony. His son accepts them with not even a flinch or a hesitation, certainly impatient to finish here and go back to his chambers with his two new slaves. 

“Now, so that every people of the North can recognize these slaves for what they are at the first sigh, they will each be given a collar. They shall wear it at all time. To not being seen with them will be perceived as an act of treachery, of which the purpose would be to conceal their identity or status in society, and which shall be met with heavy punishment. Now, slaves, come forward so that I can collar you” 

As he speaks, Robb opens the two caskets and puts them on his side of the desk, exposing the two collars of black leather, on which have been installed a silver medallion. As usual for the slaves’ collar, on one side of the medallion is written the name of the slave while on the other side a direwolf have been engraved, Robb’s name written below it. Robb moves beside the desk to make the collaring easier for the slaves. 

It’s not really a surprise when both slaves revolt against this last proof of debasement. More than half the time, slaves are scared of the collars and their implication and reacts badly to them. Thus, it doesn’t come as a surprise when Jon backs off from the collars as if they have just transformed into the deadliest vipers, eyes wide open in horror and whispering a string of “No Robb, please, not that!” in a strangled voice. ¸

What comes as a surprise though is when Theon grasps the inkpot and throws it at Robb, missing his head by less than half an inch, while crying that he is not a dog. The inkpot smashes against the wall behind Robb and spatters his back and some of his hair with dark liquid. Theon moves to grasp something else on the table, a book, Ned thinks, but Jory, soon joined by the two guards assigned to watch Theon for such a reaction, are already on him by then, refraining him to grab the book. A great commotion starts when Jon, scared, tries to run away from this. The two guards assigned for him seize him and restrain him manoeuvring him back near Robb. Both slaves scream and trash in the guards hands, Theon screaming on the top of his lungs, in a shrill voice with outrage and horror, that he is not a dog! he is not a fucking DOG!!! As for Jon, Ned has never heard him with a voice as scared as now as Jon keeps calling Robb’s name, and “Father”, and “Please!” in a strangled voice. 

Not long after the beginning of their outburst, the experimented guards have already positioned the two struggling slaves side by side, into a prostrated position on the floor, rear exposed while their arms and legs are restrained from moving. Jory pulls off the thick belt which is attached to the one at his waist, and soon enough, he cracks it and spanks the slaves’ bottoms with it. Both young lads yelp in surprised horror at that, then start to groan and whimper from the pain as a rain of pelts fall on their sensitive rears.

Ned sees Robb’s hands move to his own belt buckle, and stops his movements with a hand on his wrists. He wordlessly extends a long, shining new band of wide, thick leather he has commissioned to the tanner especially for Robb’s first training, which is accepted with an appreciative glare and a happy smile from Robb. He takes it in his hands, relishing the feel of the supple, well-oiled leather on his hands, and then mutters a small touched “Thank you father”, before walking beside Jory with his new spanking tool.

As Robb spanks a sobbing Jon with absolutely no mercy, Jory does the same on Theon, who whimpers and sniffles wetly while his bottom and tights are covered in redder and redder welts, the shade of it increasing past a normal shade of blush. Yet the Ironborn still cries “Not a dog” from time to time, fighting to the end about being collared.

When Jon reaches the point where his rear his red as a ripe strawberry, the lad is a mess of tears and snot and his voice is so hoarse that he can barely mutter. Robb have mercy of him and stop his trashing, causing Jory to stop his too. 

“If you think you have had enough of this chastisement, ask me to put the collar on you and we’ll be finished.” Robb says firmly, seemingly unmoved by his two charges crying, although he’s looking at them with a hint of gentleness, laced with pride and even a small point of desire. 

Jon doesn’t hesitate. He grasps for breath wetly, and then whimpers hoarsely.

“Please Robb, put the collar on me.” 

Three loud cracks echoes loudly throughout the room quiet but for Theon’s muffled sobs. Jon yelps then sobs as his backside his spanked again, putting his bottom afire. 

“Ask me better than that!” He says in an authoritative voice.

Jon swallows and sniffles some more, then tries again with a hesitant, wavering voice.

“Please master, could you put the collar on me? Please!”

 

Robb nods, then strides confidently to where the collars rest and grabs the one on which is written Jon. Then he goes back to Jon and kneels beside him, lifting with one hand his wet, red face so that his neck is totally exposed. He wastes no time into wrapping the dark smooth leather collar around the slender neck, closing it snuggly, then fitting one finger underneath it to make sure it’s not too tight to breath. 

Robb allows himself to rub Jon’s head like he would a good dog for a small moment, whispering to him that he did well. Jon calms slightly at that, still sniffling and whimpering while his body is wracked by sobs. After a while, Robb turns over to Theon and looks at the whimpering Ironborn, too obstinate and proud to cry in front of strangers. 

“And you, Theon, have you had enough?” Robb asks in a tone which betrays no concern about receiving a positive or a negative answer.

Theon gasps for air too then cranes his neck as much as he can in his retrained position to glare dagger at Robb. 

“Piss off, you fucking cunt! I’m Theon Greyjoy, Prince of the Iron Island! It’s not a girl like you who’ll make me surrender.” 

The lad groans, furious through his groans of pain. He struggles again in the guards hands, but is held too firmly for it to matter. 

“Well, Theon, it seems like we’re going to have a hell of a funny time together. Now that you’ve established that you’re too good for our regular treatment, I’ll just have to give you my best!”

With that, Robb rises from his crouching beside Jon and stands behind Theon. He raises his arm and cracks his leather strap against Theon’s reddened backside, hitting the same spots over and over with a brutal force which propels Theon forward before he catches back his balance. His movements are so brutal and strong that it nearly makes it seem as if Jory has been soft and kind in his spanking. The willful slave tries to quiet his sobs and quell his tears, but when Robb hits the sensitive skin just below the cheeks, over and over again until it’s an angry dark red, Theon cannot hold his cries any longer and starts to sob as tears run freely down his cheeks. The Ironborn tries to hide his face against the floor, but at a nod from Robb, a guard lifts his chin so that the young man’s wet face is visible.

Robb stops his spanking and observes his slave, walking around him to look at him in the eyes. If it was not from the slight flush to his cheeks or the perspiration on his forehead, there would be no signs that Robb has been exercising himself in the last minutes. He looks as calm and well-composed that before the spanking. The Ironborn holds his gaze for a while, looking with eyes furious and hateful toward Robb. 

“Is that still a No?” Robb asks to the prostrated slave, chin lifted in challenge. Theon groans like a furious beast, trapped and at the mercy of an enemy. Yet he does not look down. He keeps glaring at Robb with fury. 

Robb snickers at that, and then nods. Ned watches with fascination as Robb moves back behind his charge, then spread his legs wide open with the tip of his shoe. The guards help him maneuver a struggling even more furiously Theon so that his tights are far apart and his bottom close to the floor, his balls laying on the floor, totally exposed and at Robb’s mercy. Theon’s eyes widens in horror as realisation dawn on him.

Robb rests one knee on the floor, behind his charge to insure a great balance, and then raises his arm for the umpteenth time. When the forceful hit comes down and cracks against the stubborn slave’s testicles, his eyes widen to the point Ned is nearly concerned they will pop out. His mouth opens in a silent cry as he tries to curl on himself protectively, but the guards don’t allow it to him. Ned supresses a wince of sympathy as he sees Robb raise his arm again, again and then once more. At the second hit, the slave closes his eyes and let out a loud wail, then keeps sobbing through the last two hits, Robb taking his time between each strike he administer so that Theon would feel the whole pain of it. Once he’s done with the leather strap, Robb hang it on his waist belt, then grasps the tortured organs in his hand and massages it delicately, making Theon tense over as he keeps sobbing.

“Now, do you want your collar Theon?” Robb asks patiently, as if he’s talking to a recalcitrant child. 

Theon only nods his head, unable to talk as he’s gasping for breath. Yet it seems enough for Robb, who releases delicately his charge’s private then grasp Theon’s collar from Jory’s extended hand. 

From then on, it’s a relief to see everything proceeds smoothly. Robb wraps the collar around Theon’s neck, and then clasps it closed while Theon keeps his eyes shut, an expression of total misery on his wet face. After that, Robb grasps two leashes that Jory is presenting to him and fix them each to his charges collar, a clasp fitting to the buckle on which the medallions of the collars are. As if on cue, the guards release the two prone slaves and, at a nod from Robb, pull them on their shaky feet, wincing and whimpering in pain from the jostling. 

“By your leave father, I would take these slaves to my rooms and explain to them what their new status entails.”

Robb says while looking at Ned, squaring his shoulder and clenching his jaws so as to look lordly. He’s most probably anxious to have some alone time with his two new and first charges.

“Of course son, you may go. Ser Rodrik, Maester Luwin, your mother and I will strive to make sure the information get around that Winterfell has two new slaves.”

With that, Robb nods his head and walk out of the room, Theon and Jon following him meekly with the support of their pair of guards and Jory closing the march. Ned sighs as he sees Jon look at him in worry then look down in shame and anguish. This will take some time getting used to. As Maester Luwin and Rodrik leave the room, Ned finds himself alone with his wife, who still looks at him with something akin to reproach.

“I still think it is a bad idea to give your bastard as a slave to Robb. He will make him fail, what with him having already his hands full with the Greyjoy boy, and our trueborn son will look weak in the North’s eyes. You should have accepted Robert’s offer, or Stannis’ or even Roose Bolton’s.” She says reproachfully.

“I won’t get back on my decision, Cat. Jon will remain here, where I can make sure he’s well. I trust Robb to take good care of him, and to excel at his training. Jon might be a challenge, but Robb will seem even stronger if he can make even his own brother submit to him.”

He tells her with a smooth, patient voice. 

All he get his an irritated huff and then she’s gone.

* * * * * * *

 

It’s hard for Theon to keep up with the young lord’s long purposeful strides. His whole body shivers both from the cold of his naked feet on the stones and the cooling air on his nude body. His every moves are made painful from the blazing sting of his spanked bottom and tights, and the jostles of his brutalised balls make every steps a agony. He has conscience that he must look quite pathetic, his face all red, wet and snotty, him sniffing every two or three breaths as a young sobbing kid. His father would be totally ashamed of him, disgusted at such the weakling that is his last living son. The thought that he is not the only one in this situation barely makes it feel better. Just barely.

Theon stumbles gracelessly for the umpteenth time. Yet again, his guards catch him and pull him up before he falls on the floor. He wouldn’t have believed it to be so hard to walk on a leash behind someone, but it actually is. And it seems like he’s not the only one to find it so, seeing as his companion of suffering is tumbling half as much as him. 

Theon could take in all the pain and the shame, brushing it aside with the thought that he is Ironborn, it takes more than that to make him cow. Yet it becomes more and more difficult to not blush or look down as they walk past many guards, or maids and servants, all of them looking and pointing at the new slaves. Some look pleased or solemn, and some giggle or laugh. But Theon notices that most people look at him with a point of anger and resentment. Yet he refuses to just look down like a kicked puppy, like his fellow slave his doing. He looks up and holds everybody’s glare, a smug smile on his face. It must look totally ugly amid the snot and the tears, his face totally flushed by the pain and the anger. Yet a lot of the passers-by seem to get the hint and go back to their chores.

At last, the young lord – Theon refuses to think of him as Master - stops in front of a closed door. Theon’s shoulder relaxes slightly as he huffs out a small sigh of relief. Whatever happens from now on, at least there shouldn’t be any more spectators to it. It should be way better than their small parade. The young lord opens the door, and then leads Theon and the other lad in the room, which happens to be a huge bedchamber. At least, Theon thinks so seeing as his own room at Pike would fit at least four times in this one. 

His relief doesn’t last, as he slowly takes in the huge bed covered in furs and fitting at least four if not five grown men, then the two small cots installed head against the wall, parallel to the bed. Opposed to it is the fireplace, big and on which’s mantle rest small statues of Direwolves in glass or well-sculpted in wood, as well as small caskets or boxes of different shapes. 

There’s a long table between the fireplace and the bed, with only one chair at its middle. Weirdly enough there is a carpet of fur beneath it, large enough to encompass both the table and the chairs with some extra beside the chair. There are other carpets around a wooden armchair near the fireplace, which has Theon confused. Do the Northerners need to have fur everywhere? At Pike fur is so sparse that you don’t waste it in rugs or what so. Other than that, some small cabinets lay here and there in the room, as well as a chest beside what must be the cupboards.

What really make Theon’s relief vanish are the different objects hung on the walls or hanging from the ceiling. He can see rings nailed on the ceiling above the bed and near the walls, as well as two sets of chains hanging from the ceiling near the fireplace and two others sets hanging on the wall near between the window and the bed. There is also a wide selection of belts, whips, paddles and harnesses hanging from the wall where the entrance door is, so that you can’t see them from the hallway. 

Theon remarks that this room has definitely been designed with the purpose of hosting slaves.

He doesn’t have much time to pounder about it as the leash propel him and his fellow slave forward, making them walk as far as the armchair near the fireplace. Theon does feel some relief when he feels the soft fur under his feet, blocking the cold from the stones. Even more so is the sound of the clasp releasing the buckle on his collar? 

“Kneel!” The young lord says calmly as he takes the loose leashes to the table, then takes a pitcher from a silver plate and serves himself a cup, still looking at Theon and the other boy. 

Theon expects the guards to push him on his knees, and it’s only when they don’t do so that Theon looks behind and realises that they’re now alone with the young lord. What a fool! Doesn’t he realise that he’s alone against the two of them? The other boy seems fit enough that they could overtake the impudent lord if they work together. 

His mutinous thoughts are crushed when he sees said other boy kneel obediently, head still bowed in despair. Theon finds himself standing alone, looking at the young man who must have only two or three years on him, yet whose glare is so authoritative and unyielding that Theon would have the feeling of looking at his own father, if not for the softness and gentleness which emanates from the young man. Theon comes to the thought that the young lord really looks like a wolf in this moment, strong and ferocious in body, yet calm and patient under the surface, looking at him as if he was his latest prey and didn’t know yet what to do with him.

Theon’s whole body shivers, both from this last thought and the cold on his naked body. He decides that for now it might not be such a bad idea to kneel, if only because he would have more warmth coming from the rug on the floor. At least the room is not as cold as the hall has been, thanks to the great fire warming it. 

The young lord nods in approval, then turns his back on them to serves himself some more whine. By the sounds of it, it nearly seems like he’s emptying the whole pitcher, and Theon doesn’t understand why he’s bothering with a cup in that case. Then he looks sideway at the other boy, who has the finest hairs Theon has ever seen on anyone, men and women alike. The lad doesn’t shiver as does Theon, no doubt accustomed to the weather of the North, although his arms are covered in Goosebumps and his brown teats are pointed in a way which makes Theon want to pinch them to test their hardness. He doesn’t have much body hairs on him. Just like himself, he only has some fuzz on his legs and arms, as well as some light stubble on his chin and jaws and some hairs on his pubis. 

The young lord chooses that moment to walk back to them, taking his seat on the armchair then deposing a platter on the carpet, beside the chair. Theon has barely the time to look at it and see several cups on it that the young lord crouches in front of the other boy. Theon looks as the young lord cleans the other boy’s face with a wet cloth, patting it gently as he caresses the top of his head. The boy seems surprised for one moment, and then lets himself be cleaned meekly.

When the young lord turns toward Theon and extends another wet cloth toward him, Theon moves his head back with a snarl.

“I’m not some weak girl, you dimwit. Give me the cloth and I’ll do it myself.” He groans in anger.

He watches with a heavy pang in his chest as the other man smirks, then go sit in his seat and drop the clothes beside him. Damn, now that the possibility of having his face cleaned from all the dried tears and snot has been brushed up, Theon realises how much he wants it off. The young lord looks back at Theon with a hard look in his eyes.

“One should never rebuff someone’s kindnesses. You should learn to enjoy them when they happen!” The young lord tells him with a hint of smug in his straight face.

Theon has this urge to punch that smile right off the young lord’s face, see if he still finds himself funny when he tastes some of Theon’s own trade of brutality. 

“Now, why don’t we get acquainted? My name is Robb Stark, as you have heard, and I’m the first son and heir of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. I reached my twentieth Name day three months ago. I have done my training in Kings Landing, under the tutelage of the king and the queen themselves. You can trust me when I tell you that I’ve seen a lot.” He says that with a challenging glare to Theon.

“I shall be the one training you and teaching you all about respect, obedience and humility. With time, you will find that I’m a fair man, and true to my words. If you please me, obey me and act accordingly to the way I wish you too, I will be good to you and see that you are well gratified. But just as I can provide you with kindnesses, I can dispense punishments for ill behaviour or resistance. And I can assure you I know a lot about them, you have no idea what I’m capable off! And just to make sure you think twice about defying me, I’ll have you know that I will punish you in tandem if one of you strays, so that you always keep watch of each other’s good behaviour. ” He says while looking at the both of them with threat. 

“From now on I will be your sole master. You shall call me Master, although I will tolerate My Lord when we are alone in these rooms. Every time you are in hearing range of anybody but me, either you call me Master or you talk of me as Master Robb, never otherwise. To address me in an improper way shall be punished swiftly, like you have already seen earlier. By the way, you shall also address anybody who is not a slave by My Lord, or My Lady, even the lowliest stableman or kitchen maid. Not doing so will call in for the same punishment than addressing me wrong.” He says as if reciting from a book, yet his eyes still threatening.

“As for you, I already know Jon. We’ve grown together seeing as we’re brother, although not from the same mother. It will be especially strange to be in a master/slave relationship, and might even get confusing. But, at least you know I’ve always taken great care of what is mine. No matter how bad the pain or the humiliation you get in, at least you know that I won’t harm you unnecessarily or be unfair. That in itself is already a blessing.” He says it softly and in a matter of fact way while looking at the other boy, waiting for this one to look up at him and nods softly before turning his eyes on Theon and resuming.

“And you are Theon Greyjoy, son to the infamous Balon Greyjoy, who proclaimed himself King and started a war which has lasted two years. You are now the last living son and sole heir of said man. You have my sympathies for the loss of your brothers. I dread what would happen if I were to lose one or more of my siblings.”

Theon is so shocked by these last sentences that he doesn’t know what to make of them. Since his capture and arrival in the North, everyone has looked at him as if he was his father, the man who has caused them losses and grief. Everybody has seen a defeated enemy, and had refused to see that he was merely a young man barely out of his childhood. He has not even been asked to fight while on Pike. Yet nobody has bothered to acknowledge that he too has had some losses. His two elder brothers, Rodrick and Maron. They were both totally nasty and pain in the ass for Theon, but they were his brothers nonetheless. It still felt weird to know that they are dead. He looks down, unable to bear the compassion in the young lord’s eyes. He has some trouble swallowing, his throat so parched from his screaming that it burns painfully.

“Here, take that!” The young lord says as he takes two cups from the platter he has taken with him earlier and extends it in front of him to his two charges. Theon hesitates, but Jon takes one and starts drinking, whispering a soft “Thank you”. Theon takes his own, not wanting to have it snatched from here like the wet cloth. He nearly gasps in surprise when he tastes sweet wine on his tongue. 

“I have no doubts Jon knows exactly the whys and the how of his slavery. Everybody in Westeros is taught about it, although they are just given the general facts about it. The specifics are taught when a young lord or young lady is enslaved. But you Theon, have you been told about our traditions on slavery?”

The young lord asks him patiently, as if he was dealing with a young child who hasn’t learnt all about good manners or something like that. Theon doesn’t know what’s happening to him, but he’s starting to feel so dizzy with confusion and wariness and grief that he doesn’t feel like arguing or snarling anymore. He just shakes his head in defeat and wait for the answer.

“It’s all about a lord or lady learning how to embrace humility, servitude and obedience, the same aspects a lord expects from his servants. Once of age, the young lord or lady is made a slave and debased into the lowliest thing, so that he or she learns to respect all servants. Only when his or her master has made sure the young person has learnt enough about respect and humility, the slave can be released back to his lord title to rule. In all hopes, he learns to rule with respect and consideration to the people beneath him. And if he lacks respect or act above himself, the servants are a reminder that he once stood beneath them. Also, it is a good way to increase harmony between the families, seeing as sending one children to another’s for his training, or receiving one to be trained, is perceived as a great honor. It’s like fostering, but better.”

Said like that, it hardly seems better that what has broached Theon’s ears from Pike, and on his way to Winterfell. On Pike, he has been told through all his childhood that the Greenlanders lords were so crazy that they liked to indulge in the worst kind of submission. Some had said that they liked to be treated like dogs, and others said that they were so weak and submissive that even the lords found excuses to be treated as mere bitches. He had heard all kind of jokes, from the joke about being as weak and spineless as a Greenland lord, to the jokes of being hungry for cocks or taking it in the ass like a lord of the Green lands. 

It has seemed so comical, the notion that those same Greenlanders could be a threat for them. When the rebellion started, every Ironborn laughed at the idea that they would fight Greenlanders. They laughed less when they started to get beaten by said men. Balon Greyjoy sure didn’t smile when he kneeled to the King of the Seven Kingdom, a man who has once been treated as a slave. And he was totally seething from rage when his only living son was snatched from him to be brought there and be enslaved like a mere bitch at his enemies’ hands. 

On his way to Winterfell, Lord Eddard Stark explained to Theon the brunch of what it would entail to become a slave of the North. That it was mostly about learning to serve and respect even the lowliest servant. He even told Theon that he had the perfect candidate in mind to teach him. Yet Theon had heard so many comments about sexual degradation and prostitution of the slaves, that he was impervious to Lord Stark reassurances and comforting. All he could hear was the laughs in some of his men’s as they talked about how it would be comic to have an Ironborn enslaved in the North.

“Do you have any question about all this? Now is the time to clarify any of your doubts.”

The other boy remains immobile, eyes casted down in shame and mouth pouting sullenly. As for Theon, he doesn’t feel like talking, just like curling in a corner to lick is wounds, so to speak. But there is something nagging on his mind.

“What about sex? Is it true that we are now whore, to be fucked or whored to just anybody?” Theon asks with disgust in his voice, barely able to look in the master’s sympathetic eyes one heartbeat or two before lowering his eyes back on the floor, feeling ashamed.

The young lord huff a long sighs, looking as tired as both his slaves are. 

“It is not really like that. It is true that there is a sexual component between a slave and his master. After all, even as an object or slave, a man or a woman has needs. Just like eating, drinking, sleeping or getting kept warm is a need the master shall see to, a master should answer to his slave’s libido. Sex will sometime be used to humiliate you, or break you more into servitude. In this bedroom, with only me, I will teach you to satisfy all my needs, yet I will also see to it that you come to feel satisfaction from them. You have a right to not believe me, but let me assure you that I know what I’m talking about. You will come to like what I do to you, and your whole sexual life will be enhanced when you are released.”

“As for me whoring you down, or letting just anybody do to you as they wish, you should be assured that there is a limit to the debasement we put a slaves through. You might be treated like an object, sometime even a bitch at moments, but you won’t be made into some kind of sexual puppet for anybody’s used, not unless you have a certain penchant for it or act in a way so abominable that we come to it. It doesn’t mean that I won’t use sex to publicly humiliate you, but at least you shouldn’t fear the whole North gang raping you.”

Theon doesn’t feel much better at that, just more defeated. He’d still be made a whore, even if it just for one man. He still remembers his father’s last words to him, just before he was led away from him by his future captor. 

“I’d rather my last son was dead than made into a whoring bitch by my enemies! No son of mine shall come back to me as a whore!” Balon Greyjoy roared as Theon was struggling in his captors’ hands and led away from him, away from his home.

He shudders at that painful memory, and suddenly feels so deflated and crushed by all what has happened to him since the day he has been taken away from Pike, that his shoulders slump in misery and he nearly faints as his chin rests against his chest. 

“It’s a lot to take in, and you both look like you could use some rest. We’re still in the late morning. Go sleep on the cots and I’ll wake you up for a late meal in the afternoon.” The young lord tells them then raises and extends his hands to help both Jon and Theon up. 

It seems like Theon is not the only one to think that some rest would be nice. The other boy, Jon, grasps the young lord’s hand while Theon does the same, and they are both so down from all what happened this morning that they let themselves being led to the small cots. The young lord kneels on the floor between the two cots and pulls down the sheets so that they can both slip in. The both of them are mindful of their moves, seeing at how their bottoms are still sore from the spanking. Albeit the bed is far from comfortable, what with the rough mattress and the old woolen sheets, Theon feels a huge relief at lying down. The woolen sheet catches on his sore rear, and makes him wince, but the relief on the rest of his body is immense. 

A hand carding through his hair surprises him and he nearly jumps from the shock, but he soon relaxes as he here hushing sounds. A wet cloth gently rubs his dried tears and snot off, and Theon huffs out a small content breath. 

It isn’t long before it all become too much for Theon and he drifts to somewhere dark and peaceful, his last though being of him not remembering when was the last time he has fallen asleep with someone’s hand in his hairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEMONSTRATION should be coming in about two or three days!


	2. The Master, the Pet and the Cub_PART 2: Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb starts the training of his two slaves, Jon and Theon, who are both recalcitrant and confused as they get deeper into slavery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Thanks for everyone who have posted a comment and encouraged me! You have no idea how much it reassured me and motivated me to keep further with this fic!
> 
> I'm struggling a bit with the next chapter, so it might take a while before it's ready to be posted! Hopefully it will be done before next week or so! I'll try to not make you wait for it too long!
> 
> I hope this one will satisfy you enough for the wait! Enjoy!
> 
> PS: I want to remind the readers that in this fic, Jon is sixteen/seventeen, Theon is seventeen, and Robb is twenty, which explains why he's a master. Also, because of his own training, Robb is quite fit and well trained himself, which might explain some things through the end of the chapter!

PART TWO 

DEMONSTRATION 

Jon wakes up from his deep slumber with a hand carding through his hairs, and a voice calling his name. It takes him a long moment to recognise that he is not in his bed, and twice more to figure out why. Out of panic, he turns over and sits on the cot, regretting it instantaneously when his backside makes contact with the firm surface. Robb smiles as he sees Jon kneel to avoid contact with his backside.

He looks beside and sees him card in Theon’s hairs, the stranger young man smiling gently in his sleep. As Robb keep carding his hand through the dark hairs, he calls Theon’s name gently. 

It isn’t long before Theon awakes, fluttering his eyes opened and still smiling a soft smile as he looks around him. The same way Jon has done upon waking up, the other slave jumps in surprise as realisation hits him, and get on his knees at the first contact of his bottom on the cot. 

“Now that you are awake, and better rested I hope; it is time to really start on your training. Arrange the bed as it was before you got in, and use the buckets of water at the foot of them to get cleaned and the pot in the alcove near the fireplace if you need, then join me at the table. Don’t dally”

Robb says gently, but with a voice which lets no room for argumentation. He stands up gracefully, then walks to the table and sits in the only chair. Jon notices that the table is empty, but for a small wooden chest at one end. It picks his curiosity, but a hard look from Robb has him looking down at the bed and working to obey these orders. He might not want to be a slave, but he knows better that to disobey a master, more so when he is as well supported as Robb must be now. 

Jon has grown in Winterfell, the main place where lords and ladies are trained. Seeing as he has grown there, he has seen many a slave come and go, and so, knows quite well how they are treated, and what they are made to do. Although the masters mostly keep the most degrading elements from public eyes, Jon still has sighted many a slave being tormented or degraded in ways he certainly never has wanted for himself. The idea of some of these things being done to him, like crawling with a fake dog or horsetail from his asshole, or walking around with some weird chastity device on his manhood for everyone to see or even being made to perform some sexual practices with other slaves; the idea of it is totally unbearable to him, even more so seeing as he would have to do so in front of his family and the people he has grown around since he was born. Even the thought of it all making him into a better lord doesn’t seem so worthy of all the humiliation and degradation to come. 

His only comforting thought is that at least Robb is his master. Robb might be many things, but he has never been unfair with anybody. He won’t make them suffer for nothing. He would never hurt him. He might even be amenable to some arrangements so as to not humiliate them too much. Robb knows how much Jon is self-conscious about himself, has been so ever since he has learnt the meaning of the word bastard.

“If you are finished, come here! The rest of our afternoon should be quite busy!”

It’s only when Jon hears Robb talk that he realises he has finished cleaning himself out and that he has been daydreaming for a while. He blushes as he looks at Robb, who is looking at him with some impatience in his eyes, then at Theon, who hurries to finish cleaning his tights with a sullen look and clenched jaws. As usual, he is the first to rise to his feet and walk to Robb, standing in front of him. Robb looks at him whole, from the root of his hair to the tip of his toes, looking as impassive as before but with something wolfish in his eyes now. Jon’s cock twitches and start to fill under the close examination, and it makes Jon feel uneasy enough that he puts his hands on his groin as by reflex. He looks at Theon, who has just arrived near him and is being examined by Robb too, the same way Jon has been, and noticed how the Ironborn flushes and looks down, then how his cock his more than half hard from the attention.

“You both have young and fit body. It is normal for it to react in some ways, even the most carnal ones.” 

Robb says while looking at Theon’s near erected manhood. Then he looks up and glares at both of them in the eyes. 

“Thought you should never put your hands in front of you to try to hide or conceal anything. Cross your hands on your nape, now!”

He orders calmly, yet with a hint of menace, and Jon finds himself complying. He crosses his hands on his nape and spread his legs, having seen that posture on many a slave before. Beside him, Theon hesitates to obey, but ends up doing it when he sees Jon. He keeps his legs together though.

“Well done, Jon! Theon spread your legs too, just like Jon! And raise your chin so that I can see you properly! Yes, just like that. From now on, when I tell you to stand up, or to walk beside me, you will have to perform this position. You may look down, but you’re never allowed to conceal your faces, just as your groin or anywhere else! When I say “Rest” You may put your hands on your side and stand in a more relaxed way, although you will have to kip your chin up. The same rules apply for the kneeling position, the squatting position and the prostrate one”

Robb lectures just as his eyes keep roaming up and down both their bodies in a way which really puts Jon ill at ease. It feels as if Robb is actually getting some pleasure at ordering them around. But surely it’s just Jon’s mind!

Just as this thought crosses Jon’s mind, the door opens and two serving maids enters with platters of food and pitchers in hands. Jon watches in horror as they come near the table to put their burdens on it, and thus, come face to them but with the table separating them from Jon and Theon. In no time Jon finds himself with his hands over his groin, his back turned on the young women. 

“JON, THEON! Put yourself back into position!” Robb orders with angriness in his voice. Jon finds it so hard to turn around, to show himself to the serving maids who have seen him and treated him like a lord ever since his childhood. His blush is nearly painful as he turns around and shakily put his hands back on his nape. He looks sideway at Theon and notices that the Ironborn has lowered his face against his chest and removed his hands from his side, although he didn’t try to conceal himself the way Jon did. He does retake his position after a while, although his teeth seem clenched painfully and he looks at the maids with no meekness, rather some hints of furious challenge. 

“You have my apologies for my slaves’ insolent attitudes, young ladies. They are still learning the most basics things. Is there anything they can do to make up for their attitude?”

Both young women giggle and look at the both of them, contemplating both their bodies and mainly their manhood with some shamed desire. One whispers in the ear of the other, and the other giggles more, then address Robb with a shy voice.

“If My lord would allow us to say, you have quite handsome slaves, my lord. It would be a great pleasure to see them together…kissing, my lord!” She stutters shyly with great courtesy. 

Robb smiles gleefully and leans back in his chair to sit more casually, pulling out the leather strap from his bell and toying with it, to test its suppleness. All the while, he looks at the both of them with mischief in his eyes

“Well, slaves, you’ve heard the young ladies. Give them what they asked: a nice and wet, long kiss. I want to see as much passion as if you were trying to bed one another. NOW!” He orders with a pointed look.

Jon curses inwardly at having thought that Robb would be kinder to them than any master. Yet he turns toward Theon, not wanting to feel the strap again on his sore bottom. Not for something as small as a kiss. The Ironborn is blushing furiously looking sideway in shame. A loud crack on the table makes him jump when Robb snaps the table with his leather strap, urging them on. 

Jon doesn’t waste any time grasping the Ironborn’s jaws in his hands and drawing his mouth on his, kissing his lips and urging him to open up by nibbling his lower lip. The other slave is so surprised that he lets Jon’s tongue invade his mouth for a while, and then snarls as he starts answering back in a fight for dominance. 

As they both explore each other’s mouth, Jon starts to relax into the sensations of having a tongue caressing his, and teeth nipping at his own lips, then licking them. He gives back as much as he receives in a relentless duel of thongs and lips, and teeth. He barely registers a hand tangling in his hairs, and another lowering on his sides, then his hip. He does notice it when something warm and hard presses against his own hard manhood, and he starts to moan in desire as his hands take hold of a sharp hip and presses them to him more firmly. They both are a mess of drool and hungry lust when a loud clap makes them pull apart in surprise. 

They both turn over to peer at Robb, who has his two hands clasped together after he clapped them together to have both their attention. He is looking at them both with a satisfied smile and hunger in his eyes. As for the maids, they are now both blushing while looking at them with desire in their eyes, looking up at their faces then down at their throbbing, leaking manhood. 

“You’ve done well enough for now, Jon, Theon! Get back into position!” He orders them gently

Jon looks at Theon, who looks quite dazedly at him and Robb both for a small while, then moves into position. Jon blushes as he complies, all too aware of his raging erection. 

“I hope these two young ladies have found their request as well met as mine was!” Robb says while looking at the serving maids, a polite smile on his lips.

“Yes, my lord!” 

“Indeed, My lord!”

They both answer in unison with giggles and blushing furiously. 

“I’m quite glad you liked it young ladies. I’m sure with time my pets will gratify you with more of these small shows, some even better than what you just saw. Now, you may leave. Thank you for your services, they are well appreciated.”

They both curtsy politely, a big smile on their lips, then leave the room, as happy as if Robb has just given them gold pieces rather than mere thanks.

Once they are gone, Robb turns back to look at them intently. Jon blushes as his eyes take note of the swollen lips and the mess of saliva, as well as their hard, leaking erection. He tries to distract himself from it by looking at the plates on the table, taking in the great quantity of food on it. And the fact that there is actually just one empty plate with only one set of cutlery. Robb watches him notice it, then smile with something wolfish in his eyes. 

“Better eat this food while it’s still warm! Now, I want you to kneel beside me, each on one of my sides. Jon will always be on my left side, while Theon on my right. Now, there might be some times that I will give you your food in a small bowl, and you will have to eat it mostly with your mouth only. Though most of the time, I will give you your food with my hands, and you will eat from them and clean them with your thong, like right now. Now, before we start, I’d like you to tell me your three most favorite foods, and the three you like less, so that I know which aliments to gratify you with.”

As he finishes his little speech, Robb takes a fork and a knife and starts cutting his meat, bringing neat squares of it in his mouth. From where Jon and Theon both are, they cannot see what Robb has on his plates, although Jon has spied some of the meat pie that he likes the most. He thinks about lying for what he despises the most, knowing that Robb intends to give them their least favorite when they get punished, but brush the thought as uselessly risky seeing how they have grown with each other, and know themselves well.

“I like the meat pie, more so when there’s sauce with it. I like to eat marinated onions, as well as cinnamon buns. I dislike eating boiled turnips, mushrooms and anything with lemon.” Jon recites honestly, hoping this has pleased Robb.

“Well done, Jon!” 

Robb says as he extends a square of meat in front of Jon’s mouth, beckoning him to take it with his teeth. Jon has some hard time doing it, his mouth unused to grasp food without the help of his hands. But he manages it and finally has the warm meat in his mouth. 

As he keeps feeding himself, Robb makes sure to provide Jon with pieces of food from time to time, giving him the time to chew and swallow before handing him his next piece of meal. He nearly moans in pleasure when Robb gives him a bite of the meat pie, handing it so carefully that it doesn’t crumble on the floor. Jon licks his finger clean after that.

Jon realises that Theon has still not given his answers when he looks sideway and sees the Ironborn looking down in frustration, and in something Jon could not really name. Maybe pain, but from an Ironborn? He must be wrong!

“Theon, I’m still waiting for your answers. The more you dally in answering me, the less you will have to eat!” Robb chides him patiently.

Theon hesitates for a while longer, while Robb keeps feeding both himself and Jon. He takes a big intake of breath, then starts to speak with a small voice.

“It doesn’t matter. You have no fish, or shrimps or seafood, like I liked. And you don’t have eel, which I disliked. The rest is just food.” 

He says sullenly, and Jon feels something heavy settle in his chest at that comment. It might be hard for him to be a slave to his own people, but at least he knows it here. Everything is familiar for him. But for Theon, everything is new, unfamiliar. Even something as simple as food. Beside, Father has told them that on the Iron Isles, food is so spared that people satisfy themselves mostly from fishes, bread and cheese. They have not as much variety than what they call the Green Lands. 

“I’m sorry I forgot you have not the same way of eating from us in the North, Theon. It is a mistake I will strive to not make again! I’ll let you have the chance to get accustomed to the food of the North before answering me.” 

Robb says as he cards the fingers of his other hand in Theon’s hair, then rub his scalp gently, soothingly. Jon watches in surprise as Theon startles in shock, looking lost for one awkward moment. Then he swallows, and let himself relax under Robb’s soothing hand. If Robb notices how Theon closes his eyes and bows his head slightly, he doesn’t say anything. ¸

When Theon is totally relaxed, all tension having left from his body, Robb pulls off his hand, leaving Theon’s hair partly dishevelled. The Ironborn still has his eyes closed as Robb brings a piece of food to his mouth, but he opens them when he feels the food against his closed lips. He hesitates just one moment before taking in his mouth the food and starting to chew it slowly.

From then on, the three of them eat in silence, Robb passing the food in between them in a quite fair way. A comfortable weight sits well in his stomach, indicating him that he has eaten to his appetite’s satisfaction. Jon notices that they are still both erected, although less so than when they kissed for the serving maids. He doesn’t know if it is the case for the other boy, but Jon hasn’t relieved himself in a while, and now that he is all naked and all erected, his manhood refuses to soften and vanish without a release. He nearly dreads what will come next, once Robb dims the meal finished. Will he ask them to perform something sexual? Jon dreads that idea! Sexuality has always put him ill at ease, what with all the rumors and talks about bastards and their lust and whatnot.

Robb tips the cup of wine near Jon, inviting him to take some small sips. Unfortunately, the angle is a bit off and Jon get leaks of the beverage down his chin and over his chest when he tries to close his mouth on it and swallow some of the offered liquid. Theon doesn’t seem to do much better, seeing as he rubs the back of his hand on his chin to remove some stray drops.

“You’ve done well so far, pets. I hope you always show that much docility.” 

Robb says as he pats both their heads like he would some well-deserving dogs. Somehow it makes Jon feel uneasy, and Theon blushes and looks down at that. 

“Now, I want to talk. Or rather, I want you to talk to me. As I said, I shall see to your needs. Rest and alimentation are covered. Please me and you shall eat as well as you just did. Otherwise you shall be given cold broth or gruel and eat it on your own. As for the clothes, as long as you are inside the castle, you will have to bear to remain naked, more so in public. If clothes are provided to keep you warm, they will be of white wool with your collar visible, or a black scarf, which indicates that there is a slave collar under. Now, there only remains the matter of sexuality.”

“From now on you will have to rely solely on me to satisfy your needs. You won’t masturbate, or find anyway to satisfy yourselves unless I have ordered you to. You are not even allowed to touch yourselves down there, unless it is to give yourselves a quick clean up. Now, tell me if you have ever have sex, with whom and what you did. I also want you to tell me if there are things which especially bring you off. “

Jon blushes furiously as the matter he has wanted to avoid is brushed, and in such a nonchalant way. He gasps, and stutters, and whines Robb’s name in outrage, but in the end, Theon reacts first. He tenses over and clenches his jaws, looking up in anger, then pulls away from Robb’s patting hand with a snarl.

“You can go fuck yourself if you think I’ll tell you anything about my sex life! You don’t get to ask me that! And I’m not a bitch which wiggles its tail at your good will! ” 

He hisses through grit teeth, his eyes shining with furor! 

“ENOUGH! The both of you, get up and bend over the table! You shall be punished for you cheek!” 

Robb bellows while snatching his leather slap, clearly intending to smack it some more against Jon and Theon’s bottom. 

Theon’s eyes widen and he crawls back from Robb and the table both. Jon does the same, but on his feet, while looking at Robb in a mix of anger and pleading. 

“NOW!” He orders again, frowning in anger. 

The both of them refuse to move, both so shocked by the young lord’s anger. Jon has never seen Robb’s anger directed at him before. Never! So when the young man sighs, then walks to him to pull him by the arm and lead him to the table, Jon struggles and tries to get out of his grip.

“GUARDS!” 

Robb calls loudly, his voice echoing along the stony room. 

Suddenly, two doors open: the entrance they have used to get in the room, and another one near the fireplace. Suddenly, four men rush in the room and two of them seize a struggling Theon by the arms as the two others come help Robb and seize Jon by the arms, their grasp on him painful. 

“Bend them over the table, sides by sides. And try to be mindful of the plates, if you please!” 

Robb orders more calmly, features hard as stone. 

Jon struggles futilely as he is led to the table, then harshly bent over it and pressed by the shoulders and the arms in a very firm restraint. He hears a pained yelp on his right, and turns his head to see a guard shaking his hand away from Theon’s biting mouth. The same hand slaps the Ironborn with a very loud smack which seems to make him see stars, seeing how boneless he becomes in the guards’ grasp. Not long later, the other young man his dropped rudely on the table, still looking stunned. 

When Jon sees Robb again, he’s holding leather shackles and leather ropes in his hands. He grasps both of Theon’s wrists and binds them together, then extends them until Theon’s arms are well stretched on the table, wrists at the edge. He attaches the leather rope on the chain running between the shackles, then attach it to what must be a ring or a bar under the table. Theon tries to pull at them, but he’s now firmly attached on the table. Jon tries to struggle, but the hands on him and Robb’s firm moves make it useless, he’s soon as well bonded than Theon. 

“Robb, please, stop it!” He groans through his fear, pleading for him to stop this nonsense.

But Robb doesn’t take notice of it as he walks to the punishing devices wall, and retrieve two long bars with leather shackles from a nail on it. Jon doesn’t understand. Their hands are already shackled. What are these devices for? His question is answered when he feels a leather strap being tightly attached to his ankle. He tries to kick with his free leg, but two hands soon immobilise and spread it far away from the other, then the other shackle closes on it, the bar forcing his ankles far from the other, thus spreading Jon’s legs obscenely wide. The hands release him, and Jon realises that he cannot move any more. At all! 

Jon hears Theon growl and hiss in frustration as his legs are bound the same way, one being passed over Jon’s so that they are restrained close to each other. Robb go retrieve two more objects from the wall of daunting objects. He comes back with two well-polished wooden blocks curved in their center and weirdly shaped. Jon understands their purposed when Robb pulls at his hair to lift his head up and fit the block under his throat and chin, forcing his head up so that he cannot hide his face against the table any longer, nor can he turn his head from side to side. All he can do is look up in front of him and the periphery of his eyes.

“Thank you for your help, men! I think I can manage it well from now on.”

Robb says while smiling at the guards.

“Anytime, my lord!” 

“You’re welcome my lord”

The answers come from Jon’s back. He cringes as he feels a hand press one of his buttocks, spreading his cleft even further, then a small swat against the cheek. 

“If I may say so, my lord, you have two fine young specimens here! Really good to look at!” One of them says in a coarse voice. 

They all mumble in agreement, some chuckling lightly. Robb studies them for a small moment, then Theon and Jon, bounded to the table and totally powerless against their curious hands. He smiles with mirth at the guards. 

“You have my thanks for the compliment and the help both, men! Please, fell free to enjoy the feel of them some more, as a proof of my gratitude.” He tells them with great politeness, a smile on his lips.

Jon must bear as two hands set themselves on his tights circling them then caressing the skin where they meet with his buttocks. Another one settles between his shoulder blades and make a slow descent down his spine to his tailbone, then down his cleft to his puckered entrance, where it presses without insisting. He feels his backside being palmed and caressed, then swatted. Hands grasp his hanging limp cock and balls, then caress them gently.

When the hands finally leave his genitals, Jon is a shaking mess of whimpers, feeling distressed at the onslaught of his most private parts. From the angry grunts and hisses coming from his right, Jon could tell Theon finds it just as unbearable as he. 

“Thank you, my lord, for this kindness!” 

Many voices say from behind Jon. It makes him shudder even more to see how much these guards attach no interest to Jon or Theon’s wellbeing. As if they really were just pigs ready to be played with.

“You may go now, men! I should be fine handling these unruly pets.”

Robb says, and receives a small nod from the men, before they leave the room by the doors they have used to enter. Robb turns toward Jon and Theon, and examine them further. 

“As you can see, it’s useless to resist. No matter how hard you fight or try to escape, I can ask for help anytime, and have it in a matter of seconds. At every minutes of the day, there will be two guards at my door, as well as two to three other resting in the room adjoining mine, which has a connecting door near the fireplace. Jory, who has helped me punish you earlier today, has his rooms just the other side of mine and at least twenty guards are located on this hall, seeing as it is the main one where masters train their slaves. You would do well to get used to the idea of obeying me, and fast.”

Robb recites calmly, with measured words as if he was talking to unruly children. As he does so, he walks in front of Jon and Theon, all the while toying with his leather strap.

“Now, you both have made two transgressions. The first one for Theon was to avoid answering me and talking in an improper way, while for Jon it was to call me by my name, in a familiar way he is not entitled to anymore. As for the second transgression, it is for the both of you trying to escape the punishment for the first transgression. I intended to give you ten strokes of the strap at first. But when I take into account all what you’ve done, I think twenty five would be more appropriate. Now, understand one thing: I might be a kind man, and I might strive to treat my pets and belonging with care, but it doesn’t mean that I’m weak. I am totally not. I want you to obey my every command without having to raise my voice, or to move a finger, and I _will_ have it!”

“Now, I will chastise your backsides with the strap. I want you to count them for me, and say Thank you master after each hit. If any of you don’t, I will trade the strap for a cane and start the counting from the beginning! Have I made myself clear?” Robb asks with harshness.

They both nod, muttering a gritted yes. 

_SMACK_

“Have I made myself clear?” Robb repeats, louder, after having smacked the strap on the table between Theon and Jon, making the both of them cringe. 

“Yes, master!” They both answer in unison.

And so, Robb walks behind them, taking his sweet time making them simmer in their anticipation. He palms Jon’s cheeks, and swats them harshly, before caressing them. He knows he does the same to Theon when Jon hears the Ironborn gasp in surprise and irritation. Then the first smack his delivered, and for one moment Jon is so shocked to not feel pain that he doesn’t realise that it is because it’s Theon who has received it. He yelps, and groans, but says nothing. 

Jon doesn’t wait for Robb to repeat his orders. He doesn’t want the cane, which he knows must be much worse than the strap. 

“Say One, thank you master, Theon!” Jon urges, unable to glare at the other man.

“One, thank you master!” Theon snarls in a mix of pain and anger. 

Smack, SMACK, _SMACK_

Jon hears, and yelps as the last, forceful smack is accompanied by a burning surge of pain on his own rear

“One, thank you master!” He moans through his pain, as Theon whines “Two, thank you master!” then “Three, thank you master!”

Jon realises right away that the way Robb punishes them will make it hard to keep count of their own strokes, seeing as they were given to them both in an uneven way. He manages to get his 10 first strokes fine, though his voice his broken by whimpers, but at what must have been his eleventh, he says twelve instead, the place where Theon is in his counts.

Robb hits him three times, three awfully loud smacks echoing in the room along Jon’s sobs. 

“You were at eleven, Jon! Start from there!” Robb says, and then hits Jon again.

“Eleven, Thank you master!” Jon yells as tears flow down his cheeks.

Theon is the next one to make the same mistake, and he too starts to cry in pain, although he lets no tears fall from his eyes. Near eighteen their backsides are so agonized by the blazing pain that they keep stumbling over their counts, earning them so many more strokes

“Twenty-five, thank you master!” 

Jon screams at the top of his lungs as the last and final stroke hits his martyrized backside. Tears and snot are now running freely down his face and over his chin, dropping messily over the table. He lets himself sob in both pain and relief as finally his torment is over, his whimpers and cries of pain echoed by Theon’s.

* * * * * * * 

Just as the guards did before leaving, Robb massages their buttocks, palming the burning shin, and then squeezing the fleshy globs aside so as to run his thumbs against the exposed cleft. Jon jolts and gasps for breath when both thumbs rub against his sensitive entrance, then spread the rim so has to open the entrance slightly. Jon is as shocked by the very intimate gesture as he is by the small waves of pleasure throbbing in his stimulated entrance. The hands leave him totally, and he knows they’re doing something similar to Theon when Jon hears this one growl low in his throat, like a wound animal waiting an opening to escape its predicament.

“I will assume you have never played with yourselves down there. Most men refuse to acknowledge that this part of their anatomy can bring them the most exquisite pleasure. They neglect it, focusing their attention only to their cock and sometime to their balls. I will change this. You can be assured that with me, this part of your anatomy will never be neglected, unless by punishment. You will learn to appreciate every touch there; you will even find your release from the stimulation of it alone.”

Robb says in a matter of fact way as he walks to the end of the table, Jon unable to see him because he does so from behind them both. He’s so absorbed in the dreadful thoughts of having to walk with something in his anus all the time, or being fucked so many times that he will come to like it, that the sound of something metallic clicking open makes him jump. He hears the sounds of objects of metal and wood clashing together as Robb seems to be searching for something. The inability to see any of his moves is about to drive Jon mad from anxiety. Will he pull out of it big phalluses or stick to shove in them or what? He nearly forgets himself and asks Robb’s name again, but manages to shut himself up by biting hard on his tongue.

When Robb walks back in front of them, he’s holding in his hands two strings of increasingly big beads made of gold. There must be about six or seven on each, the smaller about the size of a thumbnail, while the bigger must be as thick as its phalange. The strings are thick, and each has a golden ring at the end, big enough to insert two fingers and pull. 

Robb looks at them observe their new torture devices, taking in their surprised mixed with horror expression. Then he slowly makes his way back behind them, near their vulnerable rears. Jon hears the uncorking of a phial or a bottle, and braces himself for the unavoidable torment of his most private part. He jumps in his restraint when he feels a wet finger press there. Seeing how Theon reacts, how he clenches his jaws with a harsh breath and tenses all, over Jon has the feeling that Robb is touching the both of them in the same time. He wants to tells Robb to stop this, he’d do as he wish and obey like a good little dog if he’s allowed this small bit of privacy. But he knows from all the other slaves he has seen that it is pointless. And it makes him rage internally so much that some bitter tears pool at the corners of his eyes.

The wet finger rubs against his entrance, smearing some oily substance over the rim, then presses with more insistence on the tiny entrance, trying to force against Jon’s protesting muscle. 

“Both of you, relax! If you don’t now, I’ll fuck you with ginger roots, and I can swear you’ll regret not having simply taken the beads!”

Robb says from behind them, irritated. Jon hesitates for a good three heartbeat or so, but then takes some big, soothing breath and let himself relax more. He has already seen a slave walk around with a ginger root down there, and the experience seemed totally unpleasant. 

The finger breaches him, and then pushes in, one phalange at a time. Jon winces at the feeling down there, uncomfortable and slightly painful. He doesn’t understand how anybody could like the feeling of having their anus penetrated. One moment, then the finger gives two or three trusts, before leaving altogether. Jon huffs out a long breath of relief, which is short lived when he feels something cold and hard hit his entrance. He jumps again in surprise and tries to move his hips so as to move away from the golden balls. 

He hears Robb sighs, then the sound of metal on the table. One hand grips firmly his left hip, immobilizing Jon. He notices that Theon sighs and relax slightly, surely relieved that Jon has Robb’s full attention. Jon, as for himself, is not relieved, at all. He feels the small ball forces with more insistence, then pops in slowly. To Jon’s consternation, it doesn’t stay much longer. It pops out again, only to press back again. The muscle more relaxed, it doesn’t take much longer for it to pop in again, then out again, then in again, and out again. Soon Jon is so relaxed around it that it meets no more resistance. 

That’s when the second bead, slightly bigger, presses against his entrance too. It meets barely a small resistance, but in no time Robb plays with his anus by getting it out, then in again, sometime getting the first one out again before getting the two beads in together. It becomes such a routine that Jon relaxes, his body hurting from all the tension. From then there’s even a hint of pleasure which builds where the small balls rubs against his entrance. 

The third ball, well-coated in oil, is inserted in him before Jon thinks about resisting it, but is gone an instant after, only to come back a small moment later. When Jon thinks about clenching his muscle, the third ball has already pops in again and he’s blocking its way out. The sensation of his walls pressing against the hard, warmer beads has him blushing and he huffs a small surprised breath. The discomfort is gone, replaced by some fizzy waves of something which warms his gut. Jon closes his eyes, trying to not think about it. He unclenches his entrance again, expecting the third bead to get out so as to play with his anus like the other beads did, but the fourth ball is inserted instead, meeting no resistance. 

Jon gasps for breath, the feeling of the beads moving in him intensifying the warm fizziness. When he feels a pressure against his entrance, which has clenched by surprise, he doesn’t know any more if he wants to relax around the fourth bead or not. In the end he unclenches it, then feels the fourth ball hesitating at his entrance, neither in or out, thrusting back and forward with small movements which have Jon feeling lost. He gasps loudly and blushes even harder when he feels all the beads being pushed out of him in the same time in an obscene squishy plop, the feeling of sudden emptiness oddly not as satisfying as he would have thought. 

Just as this revelation hits Jon’s confused mind, his anus is invaded again, all the beads rushing back into him with the well-oiled fifth breaching him with a small jolt of pleasure. Jon finds his face cannot burn much more from all the blood there and he gasps for breath. Robb trusts the fifth ball in and out; trying to match his thrusts to the fast rapid breathes Jon huffs in and out, and in again. 

He jolts and hold his breath when he feels the two remaining beads press against both his entrance and the patch of skin between his anus and his balls, the pressure of both increasing slowly but steadfastly. As Jon clenches his entrance in a small reflex, his walls contracts over the five hard beads penetrating him, and a small keen escapes his throat when surprise makes Jon’s lips part. Yet the pressure of both beads doesn’t stop, one rubbing insistently behind his balls while the other pushes ever more against his entrance, the oil making it an absolute reality that the sixth bead is about to breach him. Jon feels the progression of it, each millimeter by small millimeter. Finally his anus stretches over the widest part of the bead, and then swallows the rest of it with another squishy plop, the last bead pushing all the others further in Jon’s small channel. This time it’s a small moan of shocked pleasure which escapes his panting mouth. 

When Robb thugs at the string slowly, making the bead forces its way out the same way it has done for its way in, Jon finds himself resisting its escape, clenching himself around the bead and it’s mates. Robb chuckles at that, then caresses Jon’s now totally erected manhood, rubbing a finger and thumb along his whole length before rubbing the pad of his thumb over the leaking tip to collect the moisture here. Jon is so distracted by this that he doesn’t notice he has unclenched his muscle until the sixth bead is pulled out, his twitching entrance contracting over the string and blocking the fifth one right away, eliciting small jolts of pleasure to run through his gut. It isn’t hard for the smaller bead to get pulled out forcefully, making his twitching muscle closes around the string yet again. It isn’t long before the fourth, the third and the second are pulled out too, meeting less and less resistance. 

Just before the last one is about to get out, Robb pushes each ball slowly in, letting Jon feel them all to the fullest, then clench on them, before moving to the next with absolutely no resistance. When finally he gets to the seventh and last bead, Robb touches his entrance and barely pushes, then retrieve the bead, then hits softly his entrance again with barely a hint of insistence and so on. After a while of this game, Jon comes to the realisation that Robb is acting as if he’s knocking at Jon’s door, asking him permission to enter. For some other while, Jon hesitates, not wanting to bow submissively and simply accept the final piece of his anal invader. Yet he wants it to finish, and he knows that if Robb has put it in his mind that he wanted the whole toy in Jon, he’ll get it. No matter what pain fall on him, he’ll get what he wants. So he unclenches his muscle, and relaxes his body as much as possible. He refuses to push in his hole to force the bead in, but otherwise he doesn’t hinder its work anymore.

It seems enough for Robb, who pushes the last bead slowly in Jon’s lax hole. He utters a sound between the gasp and the moan when finally he feels his entrance give in and the seventh, bigger bead enters him, pushing the other ones further with a metallic sound which seems even more obscene coupled with the knowledge that it comes from inside him. Jon has trouble finding back his breath as he realises that the toy is actually entirely in him, that he’s taken it whole. To his shame, Jon realises how much it has him aroused, the heavy weight of the beads coupled with the stretching of his sensitive walls on it being way more pleasurable than he’d have ever thought. To his embarrassment, there is no hiding his liking of this seeing how hard and leaking his manhood has become. All he can do is closes his eyes and will his erection away. But his treacherous body refuses him this small mercy.

“Here, pet! It’s all in now! You’ve done well, and by the look of it, you enjoy it as well as I though you would!”

Robb praises while running his hand in gentle caresses on Jon’s stomach, then his throbbing with need manhood. Jon whines low in his throat, and can’t resist the urge to hump his hips a little to get more contact on his erection. But Robb is too much in his games to let him have what he wants. His hands leave Jon entirely, then come back to wrap a leather strap all around the base of his cock and the base of his sack of testicles, tying them so thigh that Jon whimpers at the realisation that he won’t be able to find his release. Jon slumps on the table, feeling abated in his misery.

“Here! We don’t want you to spend yourself too fast and ruin this great erection!”

Robb says with a small chuckle, caressing Jon’s thigh balls in their bag.

“Now it’s your turn Theon! See how much Jon enjoys himself on the beads? You wouldn’t want to miss it, don’t you?”

Robb taunts to the Ironborn actually make Jon feel even more ashamed of his own guilty pleasure. He’d smack Robb behind the head and tell him to fuck off if he could, but he’s still bound to the table, and he’s still panting for breath, totally in need for a release.

Theon snorts and snarls, but wisely doesn’t open his mouth to tell anything stupid which would have cost them a good twenty other strokes of the strap. Jon hears the golden beads rattle on the table as they are picked up, and hears Theon groan in a quite feral way. He hisses, and groans, and huffs out angry snarls. Then there is a very loud Smack which has him whimper. Yet he groans again a moment later. Jon tries to turn his head and look at what is happening, either behind them or at least on Theon’s side. But the block under his throat make it too difficult to turn his head and see much more than the profile of Theon’s furious, face, jaws sullenly clenched and brows furrowed in contempt. 

_Smack! SMACK! **SMACK** _ ! And Theon gives a half sob, half groan of rage.

“RELAX, Theon! Stop resisting or I’ll make you!”

Some other grunts later, Robb sighs with annoyance, then forcefully puts back the golden toy on the table in a loud clatter of metal on wood.

“Fine! Let’s see how much you want to make yourself miserable!”

Robb says with a low, irritated voice. 

Jon hears him walk behind them to somewhere more distant, maybe to a cabinet near the wall of punishment devices. Indeed, a drawer is pulled at, then there is a rumble of items being moved aside. Until there is no more. The drawer is pulled back, and then Robb walks back to them. Jon hears him approach with great anticipation, dreading what is to come even if he won’t be the one on the receiving end of it. Theon struggles to look behind him, and then whines in frustration when his efforts are proven futile. Fortunately, or not, they are not made to wait for long. Robb uncorks a vial, and a strong, heady scent of mix spices invades their nose. Jon winces in compassion for the other boy. He doesn’t know for sure, but he’s pretty confident from some talk about punishing oils he has overheard some moons ago between Lord Stark and Lady Stark, that this won’t be pleasant. 

“Allow me to introduce you to a substance quite favored by masters training unruly slaves like you. This is a fabulous mix of cinnamon oil, crushed ginger, and juice of hot peppers from Ashai. I swear it’s something you’ll find memorable.”

Robb recites with some fake humour. Jon isn’t sure if he’s totally easy with that tone of voice, which he has nearly never heard Robb use.

The smell gets stronger, then Jon hears Theon gasp and jolt against the table. Jon sees his face contort in the most agonised expression, tears running down his cheeks in a matter of seconds. His breaths come in small, uneven huffs, which transforms into small hisses and quiet sobs almost instantly.

Jon turns his head away, morbidly curious about what’s happening, yet still feeling dignified enough to not pray into someone else’s torment. Unfortunately, there is no way he can’t hear the increasingly loud sounds of Theon’s suffering. The quiet sobs and small groans of pain echo around the room in a way which makes it impossible for Jon to forget about his pal’s torment.

Jon knows that Robb as introduced one of his finger coated in the irritant oil when Theon suddenly jumps while letting out a guttural wail. Then he struggles and trashes while sobbing between labored gasps for breath. 

“If you could see how obscene you look, spread all wide for me, ass thrusting and wriggling in the air with such fieriness! You have no idea how much inviting you look!” Robb taunts from behind them.

From the sounds he makes, Jon can only guess that he retrieves his finger from Theon’s tormented entrance, then slicks his finger some more in the irritant oil and thrusts it again in Theon, who jumps even higher than last time and sobs loudly, letting out long, agonised wails. 

Jon doesn’t know how long the punishment last. He just knows that the proud Ironborn is a crying mess of sobs, wails and sniffling by the time Robb pulls his finger out from him again with a wet plop.

He hears the sound of a vial being uncorked again, then he smells something different, something which sooths his nerves instantly. Robb seizes the string of golden beads, then coats it in the new substance.

“Theon? Your punishment can be over now if you wish it so. I’ve coated aloe lotion on your string of bead. It will sooth the burn from the other oil. You just have to ask for it and I’ll give it to you.” 

Robb says with a reasonable tone of voice, his hand patting Theon’s head in a reassuring gesture. The Ironborn cries some more, struggling to catch his breath. He says nothing for a long moment, and Jon fears that the other slave will be punished more. But in the end, the Ironborn surprises him when he mutters a small “Please!”

“You can do better than that, Theon! You just have to say the words! Say “Please master, give me the beads!” and I’ll give them to you! You’ll feel way better after it!”

Robb says with a patient voice, still carding his fingers through Theon’s hair

Theon hesitates some more, sniffling loudly among his desperate sobs and his harsh breaths. But finally he sees reason.

“Please master! Give me the beads! Please!”

He cries in despair.

Then he gasps and huffs out small relieved sighs as wet sounds come from behind them. Jon recognises them right away, having experienced them first hand. He notices how the more squishy sounds come from behind them, the more Theon relaxes in his restraints, his eyes closing as his sweaty body slumps on the table. His breath gets more and more even, and the sniffling and small sobs quiet to small whines of relief. After a while they turn to small purrs of contentment as their nose fills with the smell of aloe while the metal beads tumbles against each other in steady thrusts in and out of Theon. 

“Here, pet! Better now? You feel how good it’s becoming? Keep relaxing! Like that, yes! Yes! Here, let me help you feel better!”

Robb says in a soothing voice. Theon pants again, more sensuously this time. Then he gasps again and keens with another kind of despair. Jon hears tugging sounds from behind them, and can easily guess that Robb his restraining Theon’s genital so that he cannot release himself the same way he has done Jon.

After a small while, Robb walks in front of them again, looking down at them with something burning in his eyes. Something Jon has never seen there. When he looks down in morbid curiosity, his suspicions are proven true as his eyes take in the imposing bulge in his trousers. He swallows, dreading what would come next. Will Robb asks them to suck him, or will he want to find his release in their opened ass? Robb grins in a feral way when Jon looks up again. 

“Now pets, it’s nearly time to get down for the evening meal. Everybody will want a glimpse of the two new slaves and I wouldn’t have them disappointed. For your introduction, I will plug your asses, and make you crawl around like dogs. After all, you’re still not trained well enough to remember your place if I let you stand and walk like any other men. Now, answer honestly! Will you behave and let me lead you like good dogs, or do I have to restrain you?”

Jon knows his eyes are round with horrors, his whole body tensed in abject outrage. Only his cock remains tense in its bindings for something else. He hears Theon gasps beside him, then groan and snarls.

“Please, not that! Don’t show me around!” Jon screams in desperation, struggling in his bounds.

“I’m not a fucking dog for everybody’s entertainment!” Theon spits furiously, voice wavering ever so slightly as if he dreads the consequences of talking.

Robb examines them for a while, studying their defiance of his request. After a small while which seems a small eternity for Jon, who tries to not twitch too much in anticipation of what Robb will do to them, Robb calmly walks around them. The sound of his footsteps indicates that he’s not turning around the table to get behind them, but rather walking toward the damned devices’ wall. When he comes back to them, he deposits something heavy which produces a loud clank of metal on the table.

“I don’t have the time to punish you more into a good behaviour. I’ll have to force it on you in some other way, and trust me, you’ll learn that obeying me is much less unpleasant than to not do so!”

Robb says in a calm, lordly way. Jon realises how much more elegant and graceful Robb has become ever since his return from King’s Landing. Will Jon look and talk or even act like Robb is doing now when his training will be finished? He doesn’t know if he likes that idea much.

“I’ll help you get in position pets! Come on, Theon first!” 

He says as he comes in front of the table and unties Theon’s bounded hands from where they are tied to the table. Theon has barely the time to push in his arms to get up on his spread legs that Robb has walked around the table again. Jon hears from behind him how Robb manoeuvres a struggling Theon on the floor, the slave thrashing around uselessly seeing how bounded he is from his ankles and wrists. Soon, Jon hears groans and snarls as well as sounds indicating a small fight.

Then Theon yelps and whines in pain. Jon feels agitated all of a sudden. Even if he knows how useless it is, Jon tries to struggle in his restraints and turns his head to see what is happening behind him as he hears a loud clicking sound and even more low whines of frustration and pain.

“Stop trying to rise or struggle Theon! Just stay prostrate and you won’t get hurt!”

Robb says patiently from low behind Jon. Some tugging sounds of leather being tied and attached can be heard, then Robb utters hushing sounds on the other pet, muttering some “It’s okay!” , “ You’ll do fine” and “See, it’s not that bad!”. After a while, Theon’s angry snarls and groans of pain are replaced by harsh panting, which calm down after another while. 

Jon is lulled in a semblance of calm when finally Robb rises again and walks around the table to untie Jon’s bounded hands from the table without unbinding his joined wrists. Even not being attached on the table any more makes it hard to stand up, his spread legs bounded in their unmerciful way. Yet he struggles and manages to get on his feet, his hands supporting himself. It is an instant relief to get his throat off of the contraption which has restrained him from turning his head, so he uses this small freedom to look around and find Theon on the floor. 

Robb is already there holding him off when he sees what he has done to the Ironborn, and no amount of panicking save him from being manoeuvred on all four. Not that there is much resisting to be had, what with his bound wrists and his bounded ankles, which make it hard to keep a good balance while not crashing his face on the floor. Soon Robb has him prostrate just beside Theon, back to the table with a knee pressing his upper body against the floor while he takes hold of Jon’s balls with one hand and grab something on the table. Jon feels his balls being pulled back and something cold and hard making contact with his upper tights, near his backside. Then there is the clicking sound of the contraption being placed on him, pulling his balls behind his tights just as he has seen on Theon. 

Jon groans and tries to resist as he feels leather straps being wrapped around his tights so as to strengthen and maintain in place the contraption holding his balls behind him. Seeing how his balls are still harnessed with the base of his cock in a way to maintain his erection while blocking his release, Jon finds himself in the uncomfortable feeling of having his cock straining while being pulled behind to follow his balls. And the beads in him make him feel all hot and bothered as the new position reminds Jon of their heavy presence in him. Some of them even seem to be pressing against something in him which sends jolts of warmth in his belly. He tries to straighten up, but recoils in instant pain as his balls are yanked by the metal contraption blocking them behind his tights. He cries and whines from the pain, struggling in his bindings, but stops when he notices that more pain is caused to his balls, and even some to the base of his cock.

As his fuzzy mind slowly takes in all the implications of what the harness will do to his balls if he tries to rise on his knees or leave his prostrate position, Jon finds himself laboring for breath like a fish out of the sea. He whines and utters small pleas for it to stop, but Robb simply presses his hand on his hairs and pats him like a dog while hushing the same nonsense as with Theon. Somehow it irritates Jon more than anything. He’s not a meek dog! He doesn’t need softness! He wants to be out of these bounds! He doesn’t want everybody to see him grovel around like a good bitch! He pouts sullenly as his muscles clench and shake with rage.

“Ha, here’s the fiery Jon I know. I was thinking you had become all boringly meek after barely a spanking or two!” 

Robb says while putting a hand on his nape and squeezing in a more playful way, like they did when they were younger, before Robb went away. Somehow the familiar gesture is more comforting than the gentle caresses or pats on the head. After a small while of this, Robb rises on his feet and talk again.

“What I’ve put on you is called a humbler. As you have certainly realised by now, the contraption pulls your testicles behind your tights in such a way that you are made to crawl on the floor, your hips high to minimize the strain on your balls. If you try to get up, or even to kneel, your balls will be pulled painfully until you get back in a crawling, or prostrate position. A humble position. Thus the name Humbler. 

After having said this, he grabs something on the table, bending between them right after he has retrieved it. Jon wonders what the new torture device is, dreading what is to come. He feels like his worries are answered when Robb extends one hand under his chin and clasps something metallic on his collar. The leash! Of course he would have them leashed if they were to pretend to be dogs. 

“Now, one more thing and we’ll be ready to go to dinner!”

Robb walks to the cabinet from which he must have produced the oils, pulling the middle drawer opened. For one moment, Jon is afraid of what Robb will come with. He’s sure it will be something horrible, like the beads or the humbler. He’s confused when he sees him come back with some weirdly shaped leather caps and matching leather gloves. What are these for?

Robb kneels between the two of them, who are looking confused at the contraptions.

“By the look on your faces, you didn’t expect any such mercy. With all the stones in the castle, you wouldn’t make it to the hall before having your knees and possibly your hands bloody. Here, let me help you!”

Jon is surprised when Robb fits a pair of thick gloves on his hands, his wrists still bound so that he cannot help himself. He barely lifts one leg to slide a leather cap under his knee, then he ties it in place with the leather straps. The same is done on his other side. Jon wonders if they will have to crawl all their way down the dining hall with their ankles and wrists still bounds by their restraints, which seems an impossible task to him. But once Robb has finished fitting his new equipment to Theon, he looks at them one moment, then unbinds their ankles and wrists so that they can really crawl on all four. His so fast about it that Theon and Jon barely have a moment to enjoy these small freedom and try to recoil, that Robb is already pulling at the leashes, making them stumble forward. The leather caps on their knees and the gloves don’t give them enough traction to resist, and soon Robb has them crawling near the door.

* * * * * * * 

_Oh no!_ Jon thinks with panic. _It’s happening!_ Robb is about to walk them to the dining hall, thus letting everyone look at them in their compromising position: naked, with their erected manhood restrained and their balls exposed near their reddened ass thanks to their harness. And the string hanging from their entrance, wide to the view so that everybody will guess that there is something hidden in their ass.

Jon starts to cry from despair at that. Everybody he knows, his friends and companions and the men he has gained respect from over years of hard efforts. They will all see him crawl like a dog, harnessed in such a shameful way. As Robb goes for the doorknob, Jon panics and tries to straighten up, or crawl away, all the while begging and pleading. Theon refuses to say anything or cri, but Jon sees him struggling to not be pulled by the leash, whimpering in pain when some strong move makes his body fight against the humbler, then recoil in pain because of the dreadful pull on his balls.

“Calm down, pets!” 

Robb orders forcefully, eyes hard again in his commanding lord way again. 

“It will happen, either you want it or not. Get used to it! Now, stop struggling and let’s get done with this!

With that, he opens the door to his rooms, and pulls the leashes forcefully, keeping them high so that the cords would force both Theon and Jon’s chin up and heads ahead. 

Jon finds himself unable to resist any longer. The first few feet are the hardest ones seeing as he struggles against the leash yet is pulled forward because of the leather caps and the non-gripping leather gloves. He has to swallow down a desperate sob as he’s made to crawl awkwardly like a dog, ashamed of the awkward feeling of the metal beads tumbling against each other with his motions. One of them is rubbing against something which has him sweating and panting for something else than distress, and his erected cock leaks on the floor like a drooling thing. He feels tears of frustration run down his cheeks as a fiery blush rushes to his cheeks. 

The guards, who are the first ones to see them like this, catcall and whistle, some even chuckling at the sight of them crawling with all their harnesses and sore backside.

“What wonderful pets, my lord! Their bottoms are sure a priceless sight!”

One exclaims, causing the others to chuckle. Robb stops in his track, while Jon cringes in shame and Theon snarls in frustration. 

“What do we say to that, pet?” Robb asks loudly enough for them all to hear.

“You say Thank you, my lord!” He answers after a small moment of hesitation, seeing that the two pets were not about to answer.

Jon tries to hide his face on the floor, but Robb pulls at the leash to force it up. He groans a small, half-hearted “Thank you, my lord”, while Theon groans very low a “Keep looking, my lord, you can’t afford to have it!” 

Robb chuckles mirthlessly at that.

“You heard that, Will? He’s inviting you to play with his ass! But only for a short time, we’re in a hurry!” He says playfully.

The other men chuckle as Theon tenses up and groans with anger, face as red as his rear while his eyes close to block tears of frustration. Suddenly Jon is glad to have the Ironborn with him as Robb’s slave. It makes him feel like he draws less attention to himself than if he was all alone.

Said Will walks happily to them, then squats behind Theon. Jon watches as the man caresses Theon’s sore butt cheeks, squeezing them apart then pressing them together. Theon jolts and groans, looking over his shoulders at the man with contempt in his eyes. But Robb is fast to tug at the leash harshly so that Theon if forced to look up at his calm, authoritative eyes. He whimpers and clenches his eyes shut when the man pulls at the string hanging from his opening, and pulls the three first beads free in a loud clatter of metal and a vulgar squishy plop. 

“Well, if the Ironborn missed his gold, he must be quite glad for these little things!” Will japes.

The other guards, who have gathered around the crawling slaves, whistle and chuckle louder at the exposed golden beads and the shuddering muscle, expressing lewd comments that Jon tries to ignore and Theon fakes to not hear. The guard toys with the beads for a moment, pressing them against Theon’s cleft and making the last one whip his balls playfully. He even goes as far as pressing his thumbs against the opening to stretch it and peer at the other gold bead. Then he fits one bead back in, and stops.

“He doesn’t want to take the rest of his gold, my lord!” Will says in a fake disappointed look on his face.”

Robb looks at the guard, then back at Theon with a corked brow.

“Then let it hang! We’ll see if he likes better to have them dangling out, like a teasing pet craving for play or inside, like a good, well behaving dog!” Robb says, then turns his back on them as if he cares no more about the matter. “Come on guards, I’m sure you’re hungry too!” Robb says politely.

He tugs at their leashes, and Jon, who is some steps behind Theon, gets to see the two last golden beads dangling obscenely out of his pink, tiny hole, balancing and tumbling in a clatter of metal against each other at each step he takes. The guards still chuckle at the sight, following them closely. Soon, it is too much even for Jon. He hurries his steps to get beside Theon, blushing furiously while being grateful to only have a string hanging from his opening.

When they reach a stair, Jon is faced with the dilemma of how they will crawl them down without hurting themselves. His questions are answered when he sees the guards walk past them and grab two makeshift litter, one for two guards. Jon understands now why the four guards were following them, other than to obey Robb. He needed them to help transport Jon and Theon safely. 

One litter is brought in front of him, two wooden masts on which a canvas has been posed so that a man could crawl on it and be lift on it, with a wooden bar in the middle, perpendicular to the others. The guards help Jon position himself on the litter, and he understands that the bar is there to lean his knees against it, so as to help him support himself and not fall face first on the floor. 

Once they are sure Jon and Theon are well positioned, and that their hands are gripping some handles carved on the frame so as to cling on them, Robb gives the leashes to the guards and let them lift Jon and Theon, preceding them down the stairs. Jon feels nauseated for one moment as he’s lifted over the men’s shoulder, higher than them. The canvas is tipped at the front, making him feel as if he could fall any moment. But he doesn’t, and he’s panting in relief when finally he’s let down the litter, two guards climbing up with them to ensure they’re there if need be, then joining them as Robb grabs hold of the leashes and start making them crawl forward.

More servants and passersby see their procession and chuckles at the sight of them, so contrite in their harnesses. Some comment on their sore rear, while some make comments about their leaking erections, or harnesses. Most of them, though, jape at the sight of the golden beads dangling out of Theon’s anus.

“You ought to hide your treasures better, reaver, or they’ll be snatched from you before you have time to say Gold price!” One man says.

“No, he’ll be snatched with them!” Another man answers.

“Now I understand the joke about having balls worth gold!” Some other man says.

“Well, these pets sure must be glad to have such a kind master, adorning them in such fine jewels!” A serving maid giggles.

“Are we sure he’s not a relation of the Lannister? Gold is sure coming out from his ass!” A crude man says.

Theon blushes in shame, eyes narrowed in furor as he looks straight in front of him as if nobody was there. _He must not want to provoke somebody else and be played with_ , Jon thinks with understanding. He himself doesn’t want to be played with the way Theon has been with the guards.

Yet he can’t avoid it when they get closer to the entrance to the dining hall, and some guesses ask Robb if they can touch his pets. He allows them with great courtesy, and Jon braces himself as his most private parts are palmed as if he really was just a dog, or even lower seeing as nobody would touch a real dog like that. When somebody tries to pull at his string, he clenches his muscle as hard as possible to keep the bead in and avoid the same embarrassment as Theon. But some smack at his rear surprises him and he unclenches his entrance just long enough to have half of the beads pulled out in one go, a wet suction sound making even his ears burn in shame.

Fortunately, when they reach the hall, people have had the mercy of pulling all beads inside him, although Theon still doesn’t have this luck, seeing as Robb has forbidden everybody to pull his two last beads in, out of view. The Ironborn cannot hide his tears of shame and his furious blush as clanking noises precedes him. 

For one moment Jon feels claustrophobic as he enters the big room, full and bustling with more than two hundred men and women, drinking, chatting and laughing loudly. The room goes silent as Robb stands all solemn in the middle of the door, each pets at his sides, waiting for a path to be made so that he can parade the two most recent slaves in front of the hall. 

When at last it is done, Robb walks forward and tugs at the leash, making the two reluctant slaves follow him. Jon feels all flustered to have all the attention on him, and feels grateful again that Theon is there to share the attention with him. Robb takes his time walking, making sure everyone has the opportunity to take a good look at the slaves. Laughs, catcalls and obscene whistles resounds all around them, and Jon would be glad to lower his head and hide his face away, but Robb keeps the leashes up so that his pets cannot do otherwise than to look in front of them, their faces as exposed to everyone’s preying eyes than their privates are. 

As in a dream, or a nightmare, Jon keeps crawling, heart beating so furiously in his chest that it is a wonder nobody comments on it. At least, most of the comments are made about Theon’s golden beads, still the center of attention of everyone. The slave has tears in his bulging, watery eyes, now horrified by all the attention. Yet Jon receives a lot of praising comments about how good looking he is, how he should have removed his clothes and put the collar long ago seeing how he seemed to be made for it. It has him revolted, yet he knows it’s useless to say anything here, where everyone will see to it that he pays for his cheek. 

He nearly crashes down in relief when finally Robb reaches his seat and makes his pets crouch on a carpet, on each side of him, mostly hidden from the lower tables, thus from everybody but the lords. 

Jon realises that he’s sweating from the strain of keeping himself still, and crawling for so long. He now understands how merciful Robb was to equip them with the leather gloves and knee calves. He’s sure that he would be a bleeding mess otherwise. He’s still a panting mess when he feels Robb’s hands on his scalp. For once it’s an actual relief. He sighs in relief as he lets Robb tugs at his hair in a playful way, ruffling them up as he would a dog. Robb goes more gently with Theon, patting his head with more tenderness while hushing him with some “Well done pets, you were so amazing!” 

Theon surprises the both of them when, still looking sullenly in front of him, he opens his mouth and says in a small, shy voice: 

“Could you get them in, master? The beads, please?”

Robb looks shocked for merely a heartbeat or two, then he smiles and tugs Theon’s hair in a more affectionate way.

“Of course, pet!”

“Here, all done!”

He says after having pushed the exposed beads back in Theon’s insides with another wet squishy sound. It seems alien to see Theon breath in relief. Yet seeing how much attention and japes have been drawn on Theon because of the sight of them, Jon can understand how relieving it is to have them hidden again.

Then Robb salutes both his parents as if nothing is wrong with him having naked prostrate men at his feet, their rear exposed and filled with gold, one of them his own half-brother.

Jon feels all kind of awkward having his own father beside him, appearing as if nothing is wrong at all, as if Jon is not even there, or that nothing is amiss with his new position. He does give a gentle, short caress on the top of his head, and Jon feels all kind of better because of it. Somehow the touch is more soothing coming from his father than it is coming from his brother. He enjoys the warm tenderness for as long as it lasts, and misses the contact when it leaves him. 

When he turns his head, he sees a somewhat chubby boy looking sideways at him, as if it is wrong to look somewhere else than in front of him. Samwell Tarly, Jon’s mind provides through all the confusion of awkward and new feelings. He remembers how the young man looked fat and soft when he first came to Winterfell and was declared a slave of Lord Stark. Yet, less than a year later, the boy has lost much of his fat and has become an enticing mix of buff muscles and soft curves, as more than one has noticed since a while. Being a slave of the North, or from elsewhere, does have a tendency to get a man or a woman fit, seeing all the training and labours they do to humiliate them by acting as servants so that they could respect hard work later. 

Samwell smiles at Jon, nodding politely at him in greeting, then looking at Theon, who has his eyes closed. He whispers a small “pleased to meet you” after which he looks ahead in a most dignified, well trained manner. Jon answers him back, feeling pleased by this friendly, human gesture after having been treated like a dog or unruly pet all day. 

Jon looks past his father, and sees his siblings glimpsing at him with blushing cheeks from time to time. Arya look sullen, although she does wave at him. Lord Stark, who must have been watching for such familiarities between him and his other children, put a stop on this by glaring at her in a reproachful manner. Yet, although it makes Jon feel weird to have his siblings see him as a slave, it is comforting to have them nearby, and to see Arya look at him with consideration.

Soon enough, Robb starts to extend the food toward his slaves, hand-feeding them as he would dogs. Jon blushes and feels ashamed of it, but when he turns his head again, he sees Samwell accepting the morsel of meat from his father’s hand, looking grateful and dignified as he leaks the fingers clean and rubs his cheek against the extended hand for small caress. Jon Humber, said the Smalljon in comparison to his father, on the other side of Lord Stark, is doing the same, bar the affectionate gesture. Yet he looks happy and zen as he nibbles at the food which is extended to him.

Something wet crashes softly against Jon’s ear, and he blushes in shame as he realises Robb has been trying to feed him a carrot but Jon was too distracted to eat it. 

“Are the other slaves distracting you Jon? I can see Theon looking at my mother’s ones, but he’s still not missing any of the food I give him. Do you have the desire to meet them further?” 

Jon blushes and looks down at that, taking in his mouth the cooked carrot while thinking about what to say. A firm yet gentle tug at his hairs has him looking up at Robb inquiring glare, a small smile on his lips. They exchange a long glace, then Robb let go of his hairs. 

“Don’t worry, Pet! If father wishes, I’ll let you get acquainted with the other slaves after the meal. Our guesses and servants always like to see our slaves playing together.” Robb says casually while petting Theon’s head, who is leaning his cheek against Robb’s leg to rest it some. 

“Of course, Robb! What a wonderful idea you have! I’m sure my Smalljon and Sam would be glad to get acquainted with our new slaves. Maybe we could even tempt your mother to lend her own pets. What do you think of it, Cat? Do you think Dacey and Roslyn could take part in our game?”

Lord Stark asks in a polite, elegant tone, as if was not discussing some humiliating plans. 

“I’d like to retire to my rooms shortly, Ned. I feel totally exhausted. Maybe some other time.” She answers with a clipped tone.

“Cat…” Ned starts with an admonishing tone.

“It’s okay father, mother. My pets are still fretful. It would be less anguishing for them to meet less other slaves at a time.”

Robb cuts with elegance, not wanting them to argue because of him or Jon. Jon lowers his head sullenly, and welcomes the affectionate gesture when Robb presses his head against his leg and scratch gently the hairs on his temple.

Lord Stark and his wife drop the matter, and Robb goes back to feeding himself and his pets like he has done in the afternoon. It’s still odd for Jon to just relax and welcome food in his mouth when it’s offered to him. Yet he doesn’t complain or try to revolt. He doesn’t clean Robb’s fingers with his tongue either, like Samwell has done with his father. This time, when Robb offers them some wine, both him and Theon manages to not drop any on themselves, although there’s still some leaking down their lips, and Jon is sure their lips look way redder now. 

He has managed to calm himself and nearly feels drowsy from the wine when finally the meal reaches its end. By then his erection is still bothering him, all swollen and an angry red. The beads in his ass make him feel all kind of warm and bothered, more so because of the one rubbing against something sensitive in him. And he can’t wait to see if Robb will be kind enough to let them have a release after all. He has nearly forgotten this famous slaves introduction when finally, after Lady Cat has left with her two well-mannered slaves, Lord Stark rises to make an announcement. 

“Your attention everyone! My son Robb and I have decided to introduce our slaves together. As such it would be appreciated if you would clear the middle of the room so that we can provide them some space to meet!”

Jon is all confused now. Weren’t they supposed to just say Hi to his father’s pet, learn their name and go? Why would they need some special room to do that, when they can do it now and there? And why would they have to get some space in the middle of the room just for that? Do they intend to exhibition them?

He’s all confused and anguished when Robb pets both their heads as an excited chatter rises in the room, some laughing loudly while tables and chairs are moved in loud rattles on the floor. Jon can feel a soft caress on his arm, and look beside him to see Samwell giving him a reassuring smile, caressing softly his arm in comfort. The gesture is soon gone, yet for what it lasted, it made Jon feel better, less alone. Whatever happens next, he’s far from alone.

Then he sees Lord Stark stands, beckoning his two slaves to their feet. As they walk slowly toward the end of the tables, both leaning against the lord to hear what he’s quietly saying to their ears, Robb leans closer to Jon and Theon

“Now pets, I know you’ll find it hard, but I want you to behave and give a great show to our guesses and us. Sam and Smalljon will already know what to do. Just follow their lead and you’ll do fine. And before you think about resisting or struggling to get out of our small game, do remember that the room is full of men and women who’d like nothing better than to get their hands on you and play with you themselves. Remember that show you gave us this afternoon when you kissed for the serving maids? Do the same and make it look good, and you’ll have everyone happy!”

Robb says in a reassuring tone and a softening of his eyes. He gives them barely a moment to collect themselves, then he stands and tugs at the leashes. It’s as if Jon and Theon have been lost in a daze and are now suddenly brought back to reality. The both of them look in horror as Robb starts to walk toward the end of the tables, dragging them behind. The both of them plead in horror for it to stop.

“No! Please not that!” Jon exclaims, panicked

“Please! No more! No more!” 

Theon groans in a mix of frustration and horror. He clings to an empty chair nearby in a desperate gesture. Robb tugs hard on his leash, but all it does is drag both Theon and the chair for an inch or two. Robb sighs in exhaustion, then walk back closer to them and crouch low beside them.

“I’ll make it simpler for you. Do as I say and you’ll have a nice, painless moment with two other slaves. Everyone will enjoy it. Resist, or refuse to obey me, and you’ll have a quite bad, very painful moment with me and any object I find of use to spank you. I’ll let everybody who wishes to help land a hand into punishing you. Everyone but you will enjoy it.” He says patiently to the two of them.

Jon feels his chest sink with despair and feels all exhausted and wary all of a sudden. He’d rather fight arms and teeth than to get everyone their show. Yet he doesn’t want to be beaten any more than he has already been today. Theon looks even worse than Jon must. He looks as if a death sentence has just been passed on him. He looks at Robb with misery in his watery eyes, then his head sinks low in sullen rage. He’s not sure, but Jon has the feeling he sees some tears of rage glimmer on his cheeks. 

When Robb resumes his walk, Jon and Theon both follow, more tired and lost than meek. They start to shake when they take in the sight of an empty table in the middle of the room. It has been cleared from cups and plates, and has been covered in some sheets or clothes which must be stored close from the dining hall for that exact purpose. 

Every eyes are on them as they crawl toward it. Many men and women are seated, turned toward the table to have a good sight of it. Some laughs, while other look gleeful or look excited by the prospect of seeing slaves performs for them. Servants are standing near the walls, smiling and whispering in each other’s ears with smiles and giggles. His Lord father his standing nearby with his two slaves on his sides, looking obedient in their stance with hands crossed on the nape, head high and spread legs exposing their erected manhood. The bigger one, Smalljon, even seem to have a small smile as he takes in the two new slaves advancing. 

Jon notice that the guards who have followed them, as well as Jorry and many other guards, are stationed close by, not enough to block the view from the table, but enough to remind the slaves that they are outnumbered. Jon looks around, and is glad like never before to see that his siblings are all gone. Actually, nobody under his own age is there anymore. He remembers that it makes sense, seeing as he himself has always been ushered out of the room if there was to be anything special to be done with a slave. His father had told him it was so because no lord or lady should go in slavery too well prepared for what would come. It would make the true breaking harder. Jon had not understood then. He feels like he’d feel better if he had seen even once what might happen in some moment for him. 

As they get at the feet of the table, Jon wonders how they’ll get on top of it, what with their harnesses and the way they can’t strengthen their legs without hurting their balls. He looks up and sees Robb beckon to some guards. He sees with dread the guards he knows walk toward them and finds himself somehow glad to see Will advance straight on Theon, who looks at him with resentment and shakes from anger. Robb squats between them and release them of the leather gloves and knee caps, then whispers low enough for their ears only.

“Crouch as low as you can pets, like a ball. The guards will lift you on the table.”

Robb says as he pets their head one last time before unbuckling the leashes and walking away. Jon sees him walk back to the table, followed by his father. His view his blocked by some guards legs. He does as Robb has said, curling into a ball as tight as possible. He tenses all over when he feels two pairs of hands get under his legs and under his arms, tucked under his chest. In the span of two seconds he’s lift onto the table, a playful swat on his bottom making him crawl forward with a startle. He hears a squeak some moment later and sees Theon crawling hurriedly on the table, away from Will who has just given a squeeze to his balls. Theon turns over and groans at him, frown of anger on his face. But the guard only laughs as he turns his back on them and walks back to his position.

In his stead, Samwell and the Smalljon walk toward the table with something graceful in their submissive stance. Jon and Theon recoil on the table as the slaves reach the table and get on top of it, Samwell more slowly and graceful while the other Jon climbs it in one, brutally strong gesture. There’s something of a predator in the way he smiles and take in the smaller young men’s body, then look in their eyes as he gets closer. His eyes settle more definitely on Theon when this one looks at him in challenge and snarls angrily. Samwell, as for himself, crawl forward toward Jon, eyes kind and shy smile on his lips. 

“Come on, slaves! Show these new pets how it’s done!” Someone yells somewhere in the room.

“Yeah! Make them whine like bitches in need!” Somebody else screams, causing a clatter of laughs.

All the sounds remind Jon that they are not alone, that all eyes are on them. Robb and his father are looking from their seats, Robb with something intent in them, while his father seems all distant, as if they were strangers. 

Jon sees from the corner of his eyes the Smalljon launch on Theon, catching his retreating body by the shoulders and propelling to lean against his chest in one strong motion. Theon tries to struggle against the young man twice as big as him. But he squeaks again when the Smalljon grasps his balls and squeezes them playfully. The other Jon wastes no time in grasping Theon’s hairs with his free hand and forces his mouth on the Ironborn, who’s so shocked that he doesn’t react for a while. Then the both of them engage in a duel of mouths, giving tongue for tongue, bites for bites.

A hand caresses softly Jon’s cheeks, and he turns again to see Samwell get close to him. Before Jon has time to react, the other boy his kissing him, teasing his lips gently and biting them teasingly to get Jon to open his mouth. For one moment Jon is so anguished that he doesn’t know what to do, how to act. He backs off, so surprised that that he didn’t think before crawling back, then screaming from the pain in his balls when the humbler pulls at them painfully. Sam hesitates shyly one moment, then advance more gently, eyes pleading. Most certainly he would get punished if he does not succeed in doing what Lord Stark has ordered him. 

Even if Jon doesn’t want to give the spectators their show, he cannot bear the thought of someone else being punished because of his own misbehaving. That’s why when Samwell advance on him again and moves his lips forward for a kiss; Jon remains immobile and let the other boy brush their lips together. Mindful of Jon’s harnesses, Sam grasps his shoulders gently and urges Jon to press himself against his chest, his arms wrapped around his wide shoulders. He tries to deepen the kiss, but Jon is still too tensed. So he nibbles at his jaw, then kiss his cheek and lick the shell of his ear.

“Relax!” He mutters in his ear while caressing tenderly his hairs. “Act as if they weren’t here! Just you and me, and nothing else matters.”

When his lips come back on Jon’s, his tongue caressing and probing his lips apart, Jon gives in and let the sweet boy coax him in a deep kiss. Soon, he pays no more attention to the people around as the kiss deepens even more, and his senses are lost to the pleasure of a body pressing against his own, lips teasing his as a tongue invades his mouth. Something snaps in him and he lets himself indulge in his desires. Just as he has done earlier with Theon, he fights back for dominance of the kiss, but finds himself quite lost and dizzy with his lust when Sam simply gives in and let himself be dominated. 

His erected cock is still leaking and throbbing with need, and the beads in his ass have progressively made his guts burn with lust. When Sam caresses the length of his cock gently, as if to not hurt Jon, Jon feels lust overtake him and he moans in frustrated desire. All thoughts of honor and rebellion are forgotten when Samwell leans back and urges Jon to presses more firmly against his half curves, all muscles body. When their cocks come in contact, he opens his mouth in a moan, blushing as he hears some clapping. Yet he has no time to feel bad for it as Samwell grinds his hips up and down, giving more friction for their erected cocks.

He does turn his head though when he hears Theon moans with lust. Head lowered down to hide his burning cheeks in shame, Theon bites his lower lip to muffle his pleased moans as the Smalljon has one hand caressing softly his cock, one finger rubbing teasingly his length while his thumb collects the fluid leaking at the tip. His other hand his hidden behind Theon’s rear, but Jon sees from the motion of his wrists that he’s pulling at the beads and reinserting it in with slow, sensuous thrusts. From time to time the hand on his cock grasps Theon’s chin to give him a new kiss, but Theon lowers his head again when his lips are released. At some point the Smalljon puts his slick with seminal fluid thumb to Theon, and he’s so lost in sensation that he simply licks it and swallows it in his mouth, realising only after a small moment what the appendage is wet with. He glares furiously and bites the thumb, but the Smalljon only chuckles, then kiss Theon with hunger. 

Jon moans at the sight, but the sound is muffled under the clatter of clapping hands, whistles and catcalls which the other couple has just produces from the spectators. If Theon hears the chaos of sounds and is disturbed by it, he doesn’t show it as he simply keeps his arms wrapped around the other man’s strong shoulders while kissing him with fervor. 

Jon gasps again when Samwell grasps his chin and urges him to turn back to him, welcoming the kiss when it comes. His blood is on fire and he’d do just anything to release the tension in his groin. So he kisses and kisses until both him and Samwell are both a moaning mess of drool and saliva, gasping for breath. Samwell pulls Jon to him when he lowers himself on the table, Jon firmly pressed over him, against his chest. The strong hands move Jon’s knees so that they are level to Samwell’s hard tits, making Jon spread himself until his bottom comes in contact with Samwell’s groin.

Jon startles when he feels the hardness settle between his spread buttocks, the shaft pressing against his cleft and his restrained balls while the head settles near his entrance. He tries to pull off, but the other slave firmly presses one hand against Jon’s hips while he wraps his other arm around Jon’s shoulders, maintaining him firmly in place. He kisses his temple, and mutters to Jon’s ear.

“Hush, Jon! Fear nothing, I won’t penetrate you. The masters wouldn’t want it anyway. We’re just doing some foreplay for the spectators. Nothing too serious!” 

Somehow, even if the idea of taking part into anything even remotely sexual in public has Jon feeling more than reticent, the words of the other slave, added to the nice pressure of his shaft on his balls and his own hardness rubbing over Samwell’s stomach, make Jon go lax with reluctance against him. He closes his eyes, and let himself be kissed silly as the other slave’s hardness rubs against his balls and his cleft, the head hitting his hole teasingly without ever trying to breach it. Soon, to Jon’s consternation, he relaxes totally and starts enjoying himself, the spectators all but forgotten. He even moans in pleasure and wriggles his ass some when the combination of the beads, his own stimulated erection and the rubbing of Samwell’s cock on his sensitive privates become too much for his wary brain. 

His mind snaps and he just gives in to the sensation of feeling so good after all the pains and anguish of the day. When Samwell pushes two fingers in his mouth to wet them, then wrap the string around them before shoving them into Jon’s anus, he keens as he feels the beads move further in him, and his anus stretch around the thick finger. He moans shamelessly when the fingers hit the special spot in him, and rub there some, eliciting a wild fire of desire to consume Jon’s loins. The other man guides with his fingers Jon’s hips so that he thrusts up and down against his shaft, pushing down over that spot until the head of his cock meats the fingers in Jon’s entrance, then pressing up until the head of his cock touches Jon’s balls.

Jon moans rapturously at the onslaught of pleasure pooling from his loins to the rest of him, his body shaking from so much good sensations. He’s so lost in his haze of lust that he barely notices it when Sam, his fingers still in Jon, pushes sideway with them and starts manoeuvring him around with his other hand so that Jon moves sideway, then back over him but with his head and his rear inversed from their first position. Jon opens his eyes wide as he sees the other slave’s cock just in front of his face. He barely has time to register the change in position that he feels something warm, wet and soft rub against his balls, then lick at the patch of skin separating them from his opening, to finally lick at the rim around the fingers in him. 

He moans even louder as the fingers slip out of him and are replaced by the tongue, slipping in him and jabbing at the seventh bead before getting out and being replaced again by the fingers. Samwell alternate between fingers and tongue to make him moan, sometime pulling on the string to get one ball out and lick at the shuddering muscle, before pulling it back. 

Jon is painting, his orgasm so close yet he cannot come because of the straps at the base of his cock and on his balls. The pleasure in him just builds and builds, without reaching any completion. Tears of frustration run down his cheeks as he whines in his throat. Sam, understanding his problem, takes hold of his hairs with his free hand and pushes him on his cock, urging him to do something with his mouth on it. And Jon does it, if only to busy himself so as to forget he cannot release. 

He licks the hard, swollen erection of the other man, not sure of what to expect. He was certainly not expecting it to feel soft and smooth under his tongue, nor to like the taste of salt and musk there. He opens his mouth with hesitation and wraps his lips around the pink, leaking head of the manhood. It’s all soft, yet firm and the taste is actually better than he thought. So, mindful of his teeth, he starts getting down on it and swallowing more and more of it, oddly satisfied at the sensation of having his mouth filled. He busies his mind by toying with it, testing different motions of his tongue and lips or different kind of suctions to produces the loudest moan behind him. Samwell pays him back by thrusting most of the beads in and out of him while lapping his hole and caressing his balls.

Jon looks beside him, and would have totally released from the sight there if he could or wouldn’t have already done it from Samwell’s ministration. 

The Smalljon his crouched behind a prostrate, panting and moaning Theon, hands spreading his buttocks wide apart while he licks at the pink entrance , pulling at the string with his teeth to get half of the bead out before pushing it in with his tongue and smearing saliva all over the opening. When he pulls at the string one last time with his teeth, he gets the whole seventh bead out and closes his mouth around it and pulls with his mouth so that the next bead slowly gets out. As he slowly gets each bead out with his mouth, the Smalljon teases the shuttering entrance with his thumbs, stretching it open and shut again and again to get a good view of the next bead to come out. Theon is blushing furiously and moaning lewdly when the smallest one finally gets out of him, his stretched hole fluttering hungrily over nothing while his hips wriggle in the air. 

Through all this dexterous display from the Smalljon, a guard most come two or three times to tug at Theon’s hairs so that his head remains upright, the public asking to see his hidden face. He keeps his eyes closed thigh, and one could nearly believe his expression to be one of pain if not for the fact that his moans are totally from pleasure. 

The Smalljon, grinning hungrily, turns Theon over in one rough push, then covers him with his body and go kiss him as he spread his legs toward him to ease the pressure from the humbler on his balls. As he does so, he rubs his manhood against Theon’s cleft, rubbing it up and down until he hits Theon’s balls at every hits. When Theon’s moans become louder through their kisses, and he has to break away, panting heavily for breath, the other Jon positions the head of his cock over Theon’s entrance and presses slowly as he rubs it up and down, up and down. Then, after a long, sensuous wait, he pushes, and a third of his head go right in, causing Theon to scream with anguish, although the hands he has on the other slave’s shoulders are all but pushing him away.

“ENOUGH!”

Lord Stark bellows voice loud enough to cover the moans of the slaves as well as the excited sounds of the spectators. The four slaves freeze on the spot and go quiet at that, not knowing what to do. Lord Stark rises from his seat, followed only by two footsteps by Robb, and walks around the head table to make his way to the table where the slaves are. The both of them look cool and composed as they get nearer and nearer, as if they have assisted to a soldier parade or a bard singing rather than four young men nearly buggering in the middle of the dining hall. 

“Slaves, in position on all fours! Now!” Lord Stark orders as he stops in front of their table. 

Samwell and Smalljon waste no time in getting out of their position to obey the order, Samwell pushing Jon gently away and helping him with one hand to copy his position. As for Smalljon, he moves his hips away to dislodge his manhood from where it was on Theon and hold a stunned Theon in his arms to help him get in position. Only when the four of them are on all fours, facing Lord Stark while their legs are spread and their hands and crossed on their nape, do their master look satisfied. 

“I hope my dear guesses and servants found that show as satisfactory as I did. For my part, I think that our slaves behaved and gave quite a passionate performance. Let’s applaud them to show our slave that what they did met our appreciation!” 

Lord Stark voices as he raises his hand and start to applaud graciously. Robb does the same at his side, and in no time everyone joins them in a great clatter of clapping, whistling and exclamation of approval. 

Jon feels lost as to what to feel at this display of appreciation. A part of him feels proud that he gained the approval and appreciation of so many people, a thing he has craved all his life. Yet another part of him feels ashamed of what he did, and angry that all these people took pleasure in his degradation. He remains immobile, just like the two older slaves do. 

“Now I’m sure you will agree that our slaves deserve their rest after such a performance! Let’s allow them the time to recuperate so that they are all fresh and fit on the morrow”

Lord Stark says while looking at his guesses, soft authoritative eyes making most men and women nod in respect.

“Samwell, Smalljon! To my feet!” Lord Stark orders in a gentle command which allows no disobedience. 

“Goodbye Jon!” 

Samwell mutters promptly as he starts to move.

“Goodbye Samwell” 

Jon answers in a whisper, feeling warm in his chest because of the other slave’s civility.

“Call me Sam!”

The bigger man whispers over his shoulder, making Jon smile and nod. He nearly laughs when he hears the other couple of slaves bicker.

“See you soon, Young Maid!”

“Fuck off, Bugger Face!”

Theon answers in a quiet snarl. He grins though, and Jon realises it’s the first time he sees the Ironborn look somewhat happy. 

As they crawl away and get off the table, Jon sees black stopper where their opening should be. That’s when he realises that although the main focus of the performance tonight has been to play with Jon and Theon’s anus, the two other slaves were plugged too. He wouldn’t put it past his father to have told his slaves to bring all the attention to this particular part of the new slaves, just to degrade them further. He should be angry, but Jon can only think about the pleasure Sam has given him, and blushes at the memories of it. He’d do nearly anything to get relieved of the restrains on his cock and balls and get his release at last. He has never seen his manhood looking so dark and hard before, leaking an impossible amount of fluid. 

“Jon, Theon! To my feet!” 

Robb orders, voice as soft and commanding as his father. 

Jon crawls right away, too tired, wounded up and sexually frustrated to know what else to do than simply go sullenly to Robb and wish it wouldn’t be long before he gets them their release. Theon hesitates barely two or three heartbeats more, then follow with a sullen expression. The guards are there to help them down without hurting themselves, and it’s less of a surprise when they squeeze the slaves’ balls playfully, urging them to crawl forward fast with a squeak and a furious snarl. 

“You did well tonight, pets! You were totally impressing, I’m proud of you! Come now! A nice, warm bath will be waiting for you!”

Robb says as he squats between them, petting their head with affection before putting the leather gloves and knee caps on them so that they would not hurt themselves on the way back to his chambers. After that he attaches the leashes on their collar and takes a few steps, tugging at the leashes to make them crawl behind him. But a guard call him back, and for once it’s not Will, although his smile is full of mirth, as usual.

“My lord, what about the Ironborn slave? His beads I mean!”

The guard asks in a stammer. Jon hears some men and guesses laugh around them, some even going as far as voicing japes and crude comments.

“Look at that! An Ironborn who leaves without taking his gold with him!” One japes 

“Maybe he’s so hungry for a man’s cock he doesn’t want golden toys anymore!” Someone else jokes in a crude voice.

Robb chuckles lightly, all the while looking at a blushing Theon, who looks enraged and glares furiously at the men who have dared ridicule him. He beckons to the guard who have talked, who is now bringing him the toy in question. Once Robb has taken it, he kneels again beside Theon and caresses his hairs some. 

“For this one time I will forgive you for forgetting a toy behind. You didn’t know. The next time a toy leaves your ass, I suggest you pick it up yourself and ask me to put it back in nicely, or I shall punish you. Now, I assume you want them all in?” 

He asks nicely, as if he was discussing the weather with a friend. 

Theon gives two small nods, glaring and looking sullen as he mutters a small “Yes master!”

Robb wastes no time in getting the beads right in Theon’s anus, forcing them in one by one without playing with it like he did before the evening meal. Theon doesn’t resist. He even bits his lip and swallows some moans when the bigger ones are forced into him.

It isn’t long after that that Theon and Jon leave the dining all, escorted by their cortege of guards.

* * * * * * * 

The way up go more smoothly than the way down, what with nobody stopping Robb and his slaves from journeying to his rooms. Being lifted on litters still surprise Jon some, but at least he finds out he’s less scared of falling while climbing the stairs than when descending them.

When finally they get in Robb’s room, leaving the guards at the door, they find out that Robb hasn’t lied to them. Two tubs are waiting for them near the fireplace, some fragrant oils hitting their noses and making them yearn to freshen up and relax their sore flesh. Yet there is one more thing Robb wants them to do before they get in the bath. Jon hopes it is to give them their release, at last. His balls and his cock are hurting like never before, and his guts are on fire because of the beads and what Sam did to him. Coming would be so good right now. 

Robb moves the armchair away from the wolf furs in front of the fireplace, then beckons Theon and Jon to crawl on it. He removes the leather gloves and knee caps, taking his time to bring them in the cabinet where he first took them from, then he walks back to Jon and Theon. Jon expects him to remove the humbler right away. But instead he plays with their swollen balls for a moment, before finally talking to them in a soft voice.

“I will remove the humbler and the bindings on your sexes. But first, there is something I want us to do. Seeing how close you are from your release, it shouldn’t be long before we are finished and then you might go in the tubs and enjoy the warm water before going to sleep.”

“What do you want?” Asks Theon tiredly, voice gruff and looking sullen.

Jon turns his head toward Robb, curious of what is to come yet dreading it. He has a feeling he won’t like it.

“We will consummate our new bound as master and slaves. Calm down!”

He says right away, when he sees Jon tense over and Theon starting to crawl away. He squeezes their balls to remind them of the pain of not obeying him.

“As I said, we are all near our release. It won’t take long and I swear I won’t make the experience unpleasant, not as long as you don’t resist. Keep relax as you did this evening, and we’ll be done in no time.”

He adds calmly and patiently, as if he is speaking to recalcitrant horses. He caresses their balls with his thumbs, a reminder of the choice between pain and pleasure.

Jon thinks about the pleasure Sam has given him tonight, the burning desire and the newfound pleasure of having his backside toyed with by toys, fingers and tongue. Then he glimpses at the tubs and the warm water waiting for him. Just beside that on his field of vision he sees the entrance door, behind which he knows the guards are waiting to lend their help, and his eyes fall on the paddles and punishing devices on the wall beside the door. He closes his eyes and hesitates a shamelessly short time before relaxing again and nodding his head.

“Good, Jon! Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you!” 

Robb says, and Jon is reassured at the notion that there is nothing more true than this in this world; his big brother will definitely take great care of him, as he has always done before today.

He hears Robb unlaces his pants, then uncork a vial behind him. He knows by the squishy sounds behind him that Robb his taking his time rubbing his manhood thoroughly, so as to cause the less pain possible. Once he’s done with his manhood, he grabs the string hanging from his opening and pulls at it slowly while caressing tenderly his balls. Each bead removed comes with a small jolt of pleasure in his small opening and makes Jon shudders and he bits his lips to not moan as shamelessly as he did in the hall. 

When finally the last bead is removed from his shuddering anus, Jon muffles a small whine at the sensation of being empty after having been filled for so long with the heavy, golden toy. His distress is short lived as he feels something warm and wet press against his opening. Robb hesitates barely a tiny moment, then starts to push in Jon’s well-prepared orifice. There is a burning pain as Jon’s walls stretch around the bigger cock of Robb, but the slide is so easy, what with the slickness and the preparation from the beads. Robb stops once he’s fully settled in Jon, caressing his erection to make him forget about the pain in his stretched backside. 

After a shorter while than Jon would have thought, the pain in his stretched opening turns to low throbbing pleasure, and then to full on pleasure when he starts to tighten then relaxes his walls around Robb to test the new sensations there. He starts to pant and whimpers in pleasure, sweat covering his whole body from the strain in his body and the warmth of the fire as well as Robb’s proximity. As Robb starts to thrusts with more and more assurance in his backside, Jon feels the burning fire of bliss builds and builds into his belly. Each time Robb thrusts in him he feels a jolt of pleasure run though his spine and explodes in his brain, and his balls throb with painful pleasure as they are lightly smashed by Robb’s balls. Then Robb angles his cock and _By the gods…_ He’s hitting that spot which makes him go mad with lust. A few of those hits and he cannot control his moans any longer. 

Robb stops thrusting suddenly, making Jon whines with hopelessness. He’ll go mad if he doesn’t come soon. But then he feels some tugging at his tights, then the humbler clicks open. Robb keeps Jon’s balls in hand, massaging them as he lowers the harness on the floor. Jon still feels a painful sensation when his sore bag is put free and his balls dangle heavily in it. Yet he doesn’t dwell much on it as he feels the straps at the base of his cock and scrotum being pulled free. The sudden sensation in his cock nearly sends him over the edge right away, but Robb replaces the binding at the base of his cock by his own hand, then lowers himself on Jon’s back and mutters a groaned “Not yet, Cub!” between small kisses.

He resumes his thrusts in Jon’s ass, hitting continuously that spot which makes Jon sees stars. Jon yelps and moans ravenously, mad with lust. Then he feels Robb kiss his way to his nape, just behind his hairs, and bites him forcefully, strong enough to be brutal while not breaching the skin. A memory of having seen two wolves coupling when he was a child hits Jon. The male wolves had trusted into the female until he had reached his peak, then he had bitten her in the nape to claim her as his. Just as Robb is doing right now. 

The reaction is instant. Robb releases Jon’s cock in the same time that he bites his nape in a claiming gesture, and Jon comes like he has never done before. He screams as his vision goes white and his whole body explodes in pleasure.

* * * * * 

When he comes back to himself, Jon is laying in the tub, his whole body throbbing with the echo of his orgasm. The warm, fragrant water makes him feel drowsy, and for a while he indulges himself in the pleasure of simply relaxing in the tub, enjoying all pleasurable sensations in his lax body.

Then he hears grunts and whines, and slowly turns his head to see a very naked Robb over Theon, in the same position than the Smalljon and Theon when they were in the dining hall. An arm under each legs, Robb is thrusting in and out of the laying young man, each thrust producing a pleasure/frustrated sound from Theon. He doesn’t seem to mind the Ironborn clawing his nails in his back as he keeps groaning between each kisses. Quite the opposite, Robb caresses his hip tenderly while the other hand holds Theon’s chin to force him in slow, sensuous kisses which make Theon moan more and more in angry pleasure. 

As he pounds more and more forcefully in the slave, Robb unbinds with one very expert hand the straps holding the humbler on Theon’s tights, before clicking open the harness. Theon gasps from both pain and relieve, but swallows a whine when Robb starts unbinding the straps trapping his genitals. 

Theon cries in pleasure when his cock gets free from the binding, then whines in despair and claws more harshly on Robb’s strong back when his hand closes over the base of Theon’s cock to block his release. Robb then starts to pound in Theon mercilessly, groaning himself in pleasure while eliciting small yelps and long moans of pleasure from the Ironborn. When it becomes apparent that the both of them are near their climax, Robb releases Theon’s cock and says in a gleeful, commanding voice:

“Come on, my sweet pet! Come for me!”

To Jon’s surprise, Theon grunts and hisses, then moans in pleasure.

“I’m not your pet, you _fucking_ lord!”

Robb thrusts harder, making Theon scream louder in rapture.

“Oh yes, you are my pet, Theon! My pet! Mine!”

He snarls possessively after which he gives small bites on Theon’s collarbones. 

“Not your pet! Not … your pet! Nghhhhhh… Your pet! YES!!!!”

Theon blathers and then screams in ecstasy as Robb changes the angle of his thrusts and pounds faster and harder in him. Jon sees Theon spasm and clings tightly on Robb, nails nearly drawing blood on the lord’s back. Robb follows him right away, biting in Theon’s neck just as he has done on Jon’s neck while groaning like a wolf as his hips sloppily ram in Theon’s.

Jon turns his head to give the two other men some privacy, coming to the realisation too late that propriety should have made him do that way earlier. Yet it’s hard to think about good etiquette and honor when in one day he has been made a slave and had to be punished, pleasured as well as degraded in public.

It comes as a small surprise when some moments later Robb sighs tiredly, then chuckles quietly. 

“And another!” He murmurs to himself.

Then he raises and exhales a strained sigh. When he comes in Jon’s vision, Robb his dragging a fainted Theon on his shoulder, the limp body of his slave slumped on one shoulder, rear high in the air. Jon barely as the time to move his legs closer to himself that Theon his gently lowered in Jon’s tub, Robb taking great care of resting Theon’s neck against a folded towel on the rim and rising his arms to rest over it so as to avoid him slipping underwater. 

Robb then proceeds to clean him gently with a bar of soap wrapped in a wet cloth, running it over all the Ironborn’s body in a way which suggests no reservation. He even cleans his most private body parts under the uneasy eyes of Jon, who comes to the realisation that Robb must have done the same when he was unconscious and recuperating from sex with him before going to Theon. He even washes his hairs by combing some scented oil in his wet hair with a golden comb, smiling tenderly when Theon purrs at that. 

When he deems his work finished, Robb goes in the other tub and relaxes quietly, sighing in pleasure as the warm water relieves the strain of the day. Jon closes his eyes as he sees Robb grabs a cloth and start cleaning himself. 

He must have dozed off again, because next thing he knows Robb is pulling a drowsy Jon out of the tepid water. He lets himself leans on Robb heavily while the taller man dries his back and his hairs with a dried towel. When his upper body is done, he simply lifts Jon on one shoulder as he’d do a kid, then towels the rest of his body dry on his way to the bed. When he rubs the dried towel on Jon’s rear, mainly on his cleft and anus, Jon startles, and gets so distracted he doesn’t realises he’s being pulled on Robb’s bed instead of his own, small cot on the floor. He must look as confused as he feels, because the next moment Robb his quietly talking to him while arranging the pillow under his head and covering his body with his part of the sheets.

“I figured the three of us would sleep better in there. Besides what you did this evening with your performance and then with me must be worth this treat. Just accept it when it passes!”

Jon mutters a small “Thank you!”, then closes his heavy eyes. Some moment later Theon is dumped carefully onto the bed, eyes barely opened as he takes in the bed, Jon and Robb. He then closes his eyes again.

For a while longer Jon hears Robb walking around the room, picking up items on the floor and rearranging them where they belong. Jon feels a funny warmth fill his guts when he hears the clatters of the metal beads being dumped in a bucket near the door, then the door opening and Robb talking quietly. 

Not long after Robb gets in the bed, between Theon and Jon, and tucks the covers over them three. Then he wraps an arm over Jon’s shoulders and one around Theon’s and draw the both of them to him, their head on his shoulders.

“Sleep well, my sweet Pet and my meek Cub!” He mutters possessively. 

Theon and Jon both groan half-heartedly in tired anger. Jon’s last thought before being claimed by sleep is that he would use the next few years to show Robb and everyone that he is no meek cub.


	3. The Master, the Pet and the Cub: PART 3: ACCEPTATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Robb decides to use some well needed help to break his willful, recalcitrant slaves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, here is the third and final chapter of this work!  
> I'm sorry for the while, but I hope the length of it will make up for the wait!  
> I find it important to add as a warning that to maintain this work in the prompt's requirement concerning Anne Rice, there is some het sex! I hope this won't shock too much fans of slash!  
> Enjoy!

PART 3 

ACCEPTATION   


ROBB

Robb rubs his jaws with his thumb and forefinger as he looks down at his pets and contemplates them. They are not kneeling at his sides like good-behaving dogs, but rather in front of him, head low and shoulders hunched in misery as they look down. Robb can see dark rings under both their eyes, and notices that the both of them seemed a little bit thinner and less fit than when he has acquired them. It becomes evident that the situation with his slaves cannot last any longer. He has already decided on the solution a while ago, but has put it aside again and again, thinking that one more talk and his slaves would accept their situation, or one more day of spanking and they would have enough. 

The truth is that Theon and Jon are both so obstinate and proud that they cannot admit to themselves that they are at their limits. The both of them are nearly having a breakdown from their misery, yet they refuse to submit themselves and accept their enslavement.

He still remembers their first day together, what feels like years ago, but doesn’t amount to more than one or two fortnights back. His pets had been delectable as they hesitated through their first punishments and degradations, resisting proudly and groaning in powerless rage while still being too shocked and confused about their enslavement to give a proper fight. 

The power he had felt over them had been exhilarating as he had spanked their rear for the first time, enjoying the sight of them trashing wildly in the hold of the guards, seeing their developing muscles and pale skin turn all red as they blushed in shame and rage and their rear were smacked repeatedly. It had felt even better when Robb had fed them with his hands for the first time, feeling their inexperienced thongs on his fingers as they tried to prey the food away from his digits. 

He could not put words on the warm feeling in his guts when he had first brought out the golden beads from the chest of sexual toys and devices the King had gifted Robb when he had declared his training finished. It had been hard to decide which deviant tool use on his first slaves, for their first discovery of anal pleasure. These small leather plugs, slim enough to cause no more hurt than a finger yet thick enough be felt quite nicely? Or these thicker silver plugs with dog and horse tails hanging low? Maybe those nicely devious plugs shaped to stimulate both the perineum and the prostate, so wick in the stimulation that his pets would be moaning like bitch in heat after only a few minutes of carrying them. But in the end, his hands had reached for the strings of golden beads.

They had been an addition from the queen, who had been ever more devious than her own husband in breaking Robb into decadent pleasure. He could remember all the ways she had made him moan and come from the sensuous experiences of playing with the beads in his anus. 

It had been hard to remain cool and well-composed as he had shown the beloved toys to Jon and Theon, who had looked at them with shock and horror. He had been glad for the wooden stands under their chins, which prevented them from turning their heads and see him blush in arousal as he fed their virgin anus the heavy golden balls. Fingering Theon with the abrasive oil had already aroused him as the slave had writhed and wiggled his scarlet ass in Robb’s hands. Watching the beads being swallowed in his pets’ orifice had brought him no end of arousal. He had nearly untucked his pants down and thrust his erection in the closest orifice so much he was hungry for his slaves’ rears. Yet he had refrained himself, thinking about his long training and remembering that he was better than that, that he would do things properly and wait until the evening, when he would have all the time in the world to consummate their master/slave bond and deflower them properly. 

He had been in no end of torment when he had harnessed his recalcitrant pets in the humblers then made them crawl around with their red balls all exposed, their erection jutting and leaking between their legs and the thick string hanging from the pink orifice between their bottom cheeks. He was glad for his training as he walked his prostrate slaves through the castle and watched many passersby comment on them, and let them play in lewd ways with the beads tormenting them.

And later; seeing his own pets act so depraved under the guiding hands of his father’s slaves had made his blood boil. He had seen many performances between slaves, had taken parts in countless ones. But seeing his own pets moan and act in such wanton ways in front of everyone as they discovered the many pleasures of the flesh had been more arousing than he remembered having ever felt. 

It had been heavenly, once back in his rooms, to finally breach Jon with his raging erection and at last have a taste of his first slave’s rear. He had exploded like a green boy when his brother had reached his peak and had brutally released under him. It had calmed him to take him to a bath and clean him some, taking care of his pet as a mother would her newborn baby. When he had looked at his other slave, who was blushing and looking at him with something vulnerable in his eyes, Robb’s cock had filled with blood in no time and it was a delight to turn Theon over and claim him, his pet’s moans, confused between rage and pleasure, sounding like the greatest music to Robb’s ears. 

He had gone to sleep that night with his warm, exhausted pets cradled against him, blissed by his two so wonderful slaves and the thoughts of the things he’d do to them over his years as their master.

He had not expected them to wake up sullen and with mutinous glare in their eyes. From Theon, it hadn’t been too surprising. After all, the lad was Ironborn, which meant that he was the first in years to be sent from his country as a slave and be degraded in all possible ways, as well as too proud to accept being enslaved. He had definitely expected some fight from the proud foreign prince and was quite glad for the challenge it would provide him.

It’s Jon who had really surprised Robb; glaring at him with such a seething expression that he had never known his half-brother could produce. Even his lady mother had never been the recipient of such an infuriated glare. He had thought that his brother would be more amenable, more docile. After all, he had grown up with the knowledge that if he was to become second to Robb one day, he would have to be enslaved first. And he was enslaved to Robb, who had always loved him and respected him, even though he was a bastard. He should be glad to have been enslaved to him.

Robb had known right away that he was to tread carefully, seeing as his slaves had entered their enraged stage. Every slave had one such at some time during their slavery. For some it was more brutal while for others it was milder. In some cases it may last only a few days, while for others it could last fortnights if not some moons.

Even Robb had experienced one when he was training under King Robert. He had well behaved for the first fortnight, thinking of the honor he would bring his family if he behaved with respect and humility right away, and remained cool under any kind of degradation. He had been the only one surprised when one too many humiliation had him snap and act like the most ferocious wolf. It had taken some fortnights of punishments, humiliation and talks with both the King and the Queen to finally calm down some, and let himself be tamed like the meekest wolf.

With that in mind, Robb had taken a long sigh to calm himself and had patiently asked his slaves what had them so edgy and furious? The both of them had acted insolently right away.

“Don’t act stupid with us, Robb! You know perfectly well!” Jon had muttered, looking wounded in his frustration.

“Don’t you fucking dare do as if there was nothing wrong, you fucking… You fucking asshole lord of cunts!” Theon had expressed more colorfully, so enraged that he had stammered his answer.

Robb had known right away that the level of anger his slaves were in would not be reasoned with words and patience. Again, he had ordered them to calm down and talk with him, which they had refused altogether. So he had commended them to bend over the table right away to receive their punishments. It had not surprised him either that they had not complied. Rather they had started to fight against him, Jon pushing him to get away from him, while Theon had hit him. It came as a surprise to them when Robb answered back by pushing Jon down the bed and forcefully pining Theon under him and had called for the guards, who had come in a matter of seconds and got the two trashing slaves in the same position that the previous day. Robb had seen few slaves trash and kick and scream as his own had been doing the moment the guards had touched them. 

He had given them such a thorough spanking that Jon and Theon had been a mess of wails, sobs and snot once he was finished with them. His own arm had throbbed with pain, which was to say something seeing how much muscles he had put on it since leaving for Kings Landing. 

He had then taken his time asking questions, talking to them softly and advising them to communicate with him, that as their master, it was imperative that they talk to him so that he could help them get better. Jon had kept being sullen through his pain, and Theon had only glared at him, groaning and snarling at him seeing as he had no more voice to scream. 

He had not trust them to act meekly when the serving girls had entered to deliver him food to break their fast. So he had kept them bounded in place as the servants had ignored the exposed slaves and had started placing the platters of food and the jugs of beverage beside them as if the slave weren’t here. Robb had tried to give them their favorite to smooth things over and compel them to get comfortable enough to talk. But they had barely eaten some bites of food from his palms before ignoring him. 

In spite, and feeling angry himself that his slaves refused all acts of kindness and consideration from him, Robb had gathered his two slimmest but longest plugs, then coated them in abrasive oil. Not two seconds after he had inserted the toys in his pet, they were screeching and trashing anew, lost in their pain and misery. Robb had not let them endure it long, quite the opposite. He had replaced the oil by the aloe lotion in nearly no time, feeling pity for his suffering pets, thing a master should always beware of. A considerate master was good only if he knew when to be kind and when to chastise belligerent slaves.

From then on, there had been a perpetual fight between master and slaves. Jon and Theon refused to obey any order coming from Robb, or anyone else for that matter.  
No amount of menaces or advices made them comply. If Robb told them to kneel at his feet and eat from his hands, they refused. If he told them to crawl on the floor like good dogs, they refused or struggled so much against it that Robb would have to spank them anew, and find new places to hit so that their bottom would not tear or bleed. When he harnessed them again with humbler and toys, forcing them into an aroused state, they were so outraged and revolted that they nearly hurt themselves when he tried to make them crawl outside the room. The guards helped them through a first hall, but the crying and the screaming of insults was so violent that even Robb got his nerves greeted and decided to simply attach them near the window in his room and let them have cool, plain broth for meal while he ate in the dining hall. By the time he had come back, his slaves were still in their full fledge fury, still revolting against every attempt at cooling down. 

That night Robb had not even let them sleep in their cot. He had let them find their rest, prostrate in front of the fireplace with a short leash bonding them to the ground by the collar and the humblers and plugs as reminders of their status.

Robb tried the next morning to talk to his slaves, again. And again, to no avail. It thus became a routine for him, every morning, to try to talk his slaves through submission and obedience. And always, he was met by anger and revolt. He would punish Jon and Theon, then let them have some cold gruel or broth, depending of what the kitchens were serving. Then new commands would follow, and new punishments would be received. The only moments his pets were too unsettled to keep their revolt was when Robb played with their backsides and introduced them to new toys, and new kind of sexual torments. They would become so ashamed of their body reactions that they would both cry from frustration.

For the first few days Robb let them find release, hoping that they would accept more easily their deepest submission if they realised that there would be pleasure for them too, if only they could yield. But both Jon and Theon seemed to get even more resentful at that, and the both of them begrudged themselves and Robb both for that. No amount or comforting words from Robb or reassuring caresses on the head would make them feel any better, although he noticed that Theon fought less when Robb would card his fingers in the pet’s hairs. 

Seeing as he was getting tired of all the fighting, he came up with another stratagem, something which had worked with him when he was in the capable hands of the King and the Queen. ¸

First, for a few days he trapped their manhood in chastity devices, conceived so that they could not get an erection at all. He would plug their anus with a special plug made to stimulate both the perineum and the small gland behind their cock, the prostate, as some maester called it. Both young males were horrified by these contraptions, how it would make them feel all aroused while their most precious organ were trapped limp into small cages. Everyone who looked at them when they were dragged outside Robb’s room would tease them and tell them of how much like little puppies they looked, tail tucked small between their tights. Jon and Theon were totally made miserable by the chastity devices. 

Then he took a special, wicked toy on them. It was kind of a rod, with a perpendicular angle at the end, so that once inserted in the anus, the end would rub endlessly against some internal organs. It had been especially designed to be used on males to “milk” the fluids from their prostate. Robb knew firsthand the frustration it could produce. He had nearly felt sympathetic to his slaves’ horror when he had used it on them, and after a small while of massaging the prostate without touching their erection, fluid had leaked out of them and their cock had started to deflate as their orgasm had been ruined. 

After only two or three sessions like these, they both had started to cry at the sight of the toy, knowing that they would still be aroused like hell yet unable to obtain orgasm. For days Robb tormented them so, then would urge them to talk to him, or at least to behave some. Yet, as Theon refused for pride, Jon refused in shame. Robb had already guessed by then that Jon’s problem was admitting his sexual cravings, his lust. Having grown a bastard had put so many complexes on him that the mere thought of sex seemed to shame him. Robb brushing the moot subject only infuriated him more.

After days of their arousal not being satisfied, Robb, with the blessed help of the guards, brought Theon and Jon down into an alcove of the dining hall. They were bent over a table, their hands bounded to it while their legs were forced wide apart and their whole backside exposed to everyone’s eyes. Robb put the chest of toys at everyone’s disposition, and let the guards supervise their use. 

From then on many a servant, guards or guess had played with the toys, making the slaves moan in rapture as they reached orgasm at last. The thing they had not expected was for Robb to let them so for a few days, continuously stimulated and brought off by the deviousness of some random men or women. Nobody had the right to use their mouth, or to fuck them with anything but the toys, the guards preventing anything else the passersby had in mind.

It hadn’t been long before they had begged for a stop, tears in eyes and misery and exhaustion making them slump limp on the tables. 

When Robb finally judged they had had enough of this new torment, he brought them back in his chambers, where he made them bath and lectured his pets about the importance communicating with him, and how it was normal to have sexual needs and satisfy them. He hoped the lesson had sunk in. 

Unfortunately it had not.

Jon and Theon kept refusing him obedience. They still struggled against most of what he commanded them, and recoiled the moment anything sexual was mentioned or threatened them. 

And unfortunately, even if Robb had threatened them to be punished in tandem, a threat which was always effective seeing as it pushed the best behaved slave to urge the other into adopting a better attitude for fear of being punished as well, Jon and Theon both remained recalcitrant. Worst, they seemed to support each other in their revolt, refusing to bend as long as the other wouldn’t do so first.

Things have to change.

Robb has cuddled them enough. It his time his pets have a taste of what it’s like to really be slaves.

It’s with his most casual voice that he says:

“Pets, I think it’s time your training really starts!”

* * * * * 

THEON

Theon hadn’t understood what lord Robb had meant by telling Jon and him that their training was now really starting. Hadn’t it started a while back, about two or three fortnight ago? Was he saying that all along he had treated them like child, or cuddled them like weakling? 

His musings were interrupted when two guards seized him by the arms and started leading him out of the room, his fellow slave dragged the same way just behind him. He was so confused and shocked for a small while that it’s only after a few levels down that Theon really started to resist and struggle against the guards. 

“Where are we going? What are you going to do to us? Where are we going?” 

He becomes even more frantic with anguish when he sees that none of the guards are answering him, not even lord Robb. When he cranes his neck to get a glimpse he sees that the young lord is casually walking behind them as if he is only taking a nice walk. He starts really anguishing when he sees that they are not heading to the hall or some places he knows. They seem to be going lower, taking corridors he doesn’t know. Are they going to the dungeons? Is his master so fed up of them and their resistance that he has decided to get his impudent slaves in cells? 

It sure is getting colder the lower they get in the keep. His naked skin is covered in goose bumps and he shivers from the cold breeze there. Maybe the lord is going to let them down there until they lose their balls to the cold?

He’s so anguished at what the young lord has planned for them, thinking that this punishment would be worse than horrible, that he starts screaming and trashing in the hold of his guards. Of course, the guards are so used to him and Jon trashing in their hold that there’s no escaping them.

His voice his hoarse from shouting and he’s gasping for breath when finally a guard opens a last door and the crew enters what seems like…stables.

Theon looks with incredulity at the indoor stables, the room being big enough to stand a good twenty cubicles, all made of wood against the stony walls. The walls and the floor are neat, neater than your usual stables, with barely some straw around the doors to the cubicles.

Some tables are arranged in the small opened area by which they entered, and on the walls around them all kinds of harnesses, paddles, whips and other objects Theon dreads are hanging from nails. 

A crew of about half a dozen stablemen are busy cleaning around, polishing leather harnesses or getting water in cubicles. But when one beefy man sees them entering the room, he hails the other men and a small gathering forms in front of them. 

Robb walks forward, looking casual and all noble.

“I present to you our two newest slaves, men. From now on they will come every morning to get exercised by your expert hands. I thrust you to tend to them as you’d do the most stubborn mounts.” 

“Of course, my Lord. You can have your mind in peace, we’ll take great care of your slaves.”

The same gruff man who has hailed the others when they came in answers with a polite, grumpy voice. 

Robb nods at that, then look one last time at Theon and Jon before turning around. Theon watches with anguish as he sees him walk away, his pace as smooth and unfazed as it was earlier. When the door closes behind him, he turns again and sees the stablemen look at him and Jon with appraising and appreciative glares.

The man who has talked with lord Robb walks forward to an increasingly panicked Theon and Jon, and observe them from close, lifting their chin while palming their sore bottoms, then their thighs, one at a time. Jon doesn’t dare emit one sound, although the way he glares at the man says everything about how much he likes being touched like that. Theon, when his turn comes, snarls and struggles in the guards arms, spitting a “Who the fuck do you think you are to dare touch me like that, you shit face?”

The gruff man looks at Theon, totally unfazed by his insult. Suddenly he starts to laugh, loud and with good mirth, as if Theon has just made him the best joke he has heard in a while rather than insulted him. He is soon joined by the other stablemen, and then by the guards.

“So it’s true, what I heard about the Iron bitch being all whiney and cocky!” 

The man says as his face gets dangerously closed to Theon’s. He tries to recoil, fearing that the man will try to kiss him or something. But he stops a mere inch from Theon faces, and his eyes piercing Theon’s with something menacing and overwhelming, he opens his mouth and his warm breath hits Theon’s mouth.

“It’s always more fun to play with a slave when there’s some spirit in him than when he just lay quiet and take everything without a fight.” He tells him while tracing his jaw with a finger. “Don’t worry; we’ll have so much fun together! And for the future, the name is Burrich, and I’m a pet trainer for Lord Stark. You will address me as Master Burrich, and talk to me and everybody here with respect”

He adds, before he walks away, leaving Theon totally shocked by the whole threat, knees buckling under his own weight. For the first time in a while he’s glad for the arms keeping him upright. He looks aside at the other slave, who looks numb from shock and fright.

“Come on pals! These slaves won’t get trained by themselves. Bring them over so that we can prepare them!”

Theon’s trance is broken as the guards hand him over to some well-muscled men, who drag Theon and Jon away from each other, each on a separate side of the room. He tries to resist as he feels hands maneuver him on a table, bent over it like lord Robb does when he wants to play with their ass. He struggles futilely when he feels hands spread his legs and fixing them over small wooden planks on table legs, knees bent so that Theon is now more spread and exposed than he has ever been while bent over a table. His arms are pulled behind, his wrist bounded in handcuffs which are now attached to his collar, so that he cannot move his arms or hands any longer. 

He panics when he feels something hard and big press against his mouth, and clenches his teeth together as hard as possible. But somebody squeezes his nose shut so that he cannot breathe. For one tiny moment he thinks about resisting to the death against his captors’ hands, not liking the idea of having something shoved in his mouth even one bit. But the mere idea of being the Ironborn dead of asphyxiation in his captors hands while being spread as wide as a wanton whore appeals even less to him. So in the end he opens his mouth to take a breath, and snarls around the fat phallic wooden plug which is shoveled deep in his mouth. The stablemen laughs and pat his shoulders as he gulps and gasp around the big implement filling his mouth. He can already feel slivers of drool running down his chin as thee men strap some kind of harness around his head to keep it in place He cannot hold tears of frustration from leaking down his eyes at such a humiliation.

Once the men have finished with the harness on his head, and have strapped another one around his torso and shoulders, he feels similar straps moving around his hips and his abdomen. He’s totally powerless when a well-greased phallus made of wood breaches his anus and is forced into his protesting entrance. He’s fighting for breath, gasping around his small whines and furious groans as the indignation of having somebody thrust things in his rear like a common bitch makes him shakes powerlessly. His body might have gotten used to the stretch, it being less and less painful with each new introduction, but it still stings that anybody can shove things in it while he has no say about it. 

He feels hands roam around his upper back, rubbing his shoulder to alleviate the tension there. Another set of hands massage his sore buttocks, splitting them apart and squeezing the sensitive flesh there, then massaging the muscles in his rear until he feels himself relax. When one man goes on each of his legs and start to massage the muscles there, Theon doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t want to relax, not with that thing in his mouth and that other one in his anus. Yet he feels his breathing slow down and his muscles go lax.

That’s when the man just behind his rear grasps his sack in one hand and seizes his manhood with the other one. He jolts in his grasp, startled by the sudden contact, yet there’s nothing he can do when the man starts to fondle his balls in his sack in an expert way, and squeeze his half erected member as he thrusts it in his fist. He tries to will his member to remind limb in the other man’s hands, but his body, as usual lately, betrays him again and it isn’t long before his manhood is fully erected under the ministration of the stableman. 

“Here, good boy! Yeah, that’s it, just relax and let your body react the way it craves to!”

The man mutters soothingly behind Theon, as the hands leave his legs and go back to massaging his shoulders and the back of his head. Theon wants everything but to relax in the other man’s hands. Yet he’s been so tired lately, what with him sleeping badly and all the punishments Lord Robb gives him each time he resists. He doesn’t want to look weak, and certainly don’t want to accept anything with his new slave condition. Yet the hands are being nice on him, and he can’t move at all, and he just want to close his eyes and forget his misery.

His lids are nearly dropping from sleep when he hears Burrich’s voice roar from behind him. 

“Appease them some, don’t make them sleep! They’ll be good for nothing if they cannot even stand straight!” 

Burrich calls from behind Theon, making him jump in his restraints. He hears the man approach him, his heavy footsteps coming closer and closer until they stop right behind him, a flurry of movements announcing that the other stablemen have moved aside to give him all the room he needs.

Theon jumps in his restraints when he feels the big, heavy hands palm his erection, playing with the head until some liquid leaks at the tip. He weighs his balls after that, fondling them in his sack before squeezing them roughly in an inquisitive way. Theon groans in protestation against his wooden gag, not liking one bit the way the bigger man was treating his private parts. Burrich chuckles, then release his balls to palm his sore bottom cheeks and spread them, one hand going on the end of the phallus right away to pull half of it some, before thrusting it in and out playfully. Theon groans again, ashamed of the way his body accepts the toy easily now and how his cock is feeling heavy and painful from how hard he is.

“I knew you’d turn out to be a real slut! Ironborn are so sexual that it is a wonder they are too ashamed to see for themselves if anal sex is good at all!” 

Burrich exclaims as he keeps thrusting the phallus in Theon’s backside, angling it so that it now press against that thing that Lord Robb calls the prostate at every thrusts. Theon wants to cry from his shame, but the hatred of doing so in front of others refrains him of letting his tears fall.

“Here, give me that one over there! We’ll be sure he won’t forget about it anytime soon!” Burrich orders in a gruff voice.

Theon winces as he feels the phallus leave his entrance then sighs in relief when he feels it gone. His reprieve doesn’t last long seeing how fast the phallus is replaced by another one, thicker, and longer as he feels it stretch his walls in a way no other toys have done before. He gasps, whines and buckles his hips as he feels his walls being stretched painfully by the immense wooden shaft, his anus widely opened around it. 

To his horror, Burrich traps his still erected cock and his balls in another leather harness, thread a leather strap through a hole pierced at the base of the big phallus and attaches it to another leather strap circling his waist, so that the phallus is tightly maintained in place. 

“That one should be ready! Give him the rest of his gear then you can start his training!”

Burrich says as he gives a good, well-felt swat at Theon’s rear. Soon enough, the man gets further away, then Theon hears Jon’s groans resounds at the opposite of him. He’s distracted from hearing what Burrich says as different sets of hands work on him, one releasing one foot to put it in a knee-high boot before releasing it on the floor, while another one fixes a thread just below the head of his erected manhood, from which small bells hang in small, resounding clatters. When his other leg his put in a boot and released on the floor, Theon is surprised to feel something tickles between them, like long hairs.

His questions are answered when he’s finally released from the table and set upright. The phallus moves in him in an uncomfortable way due to his change of position, and he realises that he must have something like a horsetail hanging from the base of it. A stableman comes toward him with a pole near as highs as him, and fixes it to the ring on his collar.

Theon doesn’t understand. Is it some kind of leash? It looks a bit like the kind of thing someone training a horse would use to guide the animal steps and train him. But certainly they won’t use it on him, on a man!

“Come on, time to go slave! Just follow our lead and do your best and you shouldn’t taste too much of Ed’s paddle!” 

The stableman at the end of the pole says, then lifts it and push with it until the motion propels Theon to move forward. He stumbles, so shocked he is by the notion of having to walk with all this harness, his manhood trapped and put in evidence by the little bells, while the fat phallus fills Theon in an unnatural way. But he doesn’t fall. The man handling the pole maintains him upright with an ease which shows how practiced he is about manoeuvring man slaves like Theon is now.

He has no other choice than to walk as his guide moves slightly behind him and push in the poll so that his collar, and his whole body, his propelled forward. As he walks forward, toward the door of the whole room, he sees from time to time a slave positioned on a table in cubicles, each one positioned so that his rear faces the door. Some seem to be sleeping or resting, while others cries or are tended to by some other stablemen. When he reaches the main door, the two guards posted beside it open it on the cold outside, unfazed by the difference of temperature. 

Theon shivers as his guide walks him outside, under the morning sky. There is no snow, seeing as they were still late into the summer. But summer in the North still means that nobody walks outside without a good two to three layers of clothes. And Theon has been given none. Goose bumps cover his arms in not time, and his teeth would clatter together if it was not for the wooden phallus in his mouth. Is this some kind of new torture? Like, make the slaves walk naked outside until they lose their balls to the cold?

“Don’t worry, pet! You will get warm in no time!” 

His guide says, still making him walk forward, toward the door leading them outside the castle yards. Theon notices that the so called Ed, with his paddle, is still following them. He snickers at Theon when he peers at him, and Theon doesn’t know what else to do than to hold his eyes in challenge. There are also two guards on horses following them, casually chatting as if there was no naked man being led like a horse by two other men. 

The moment his guide has leaded Theon through the door leading them outside the keep, the guide starts to jog in a casual trot, forcing Theon to do as him. He notices that they are trotting in the streets of the town surrounding the castle, with all the small people running around in a small chaos of morning activities. One there is cutting logs for his fire. A couple of girls here are hailing buckets of water toward a house there. And this woman is feeding the pigs in the fenced square beside her house. 

The moment he starts to run, and the small bells ring with the rhythm of his steps, people turn around to look at him, and smile and laugh at his sight. He narrows his eyes in anger, but a loud, painful smack on his exposed rear makes his eyes sting with tears and he jolts forward with a pained yelp. The people outside their home all stop their activities at the sight of Theon, and he feels ashamed to be paraded so in front of them, mouth gagged by a wooden phallus, while a bigger one is digging deeper and deeper in his loins with each movements, and his erected cock and his balls bounce as he runs. The horsetail hanging down his tights and balancing according to his motions only makes him humiliation stingier. 

Ed keeps smacking his rear each time he groans in anger, or slows down in shame. So he focuses in front of him and fix his attention on maintaining a regular breathing while his guide direct his steps that way, then this one. Each time someone dare laugh at him or looks at him with contempt or mirth in the eyes, he hold his eyes for as long as he can before getting past them. 

Before long, the cold as numbed everything but his sore bottom, that Ed keeps smacking regularly to encourage him forward, and, as he realises with powerless rage, make the passersby laugh at Theon’s predicament. But his guide was right. The exercise seems to make him feel warmer, or at least it makes him forget about the temperature. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s made to run through the streets of Winterfell. He doesn’t know either how long he must still bear through this. Drool is still leaking down his cheeks and his chin, and he as some trouble breathing through his nose alone. The leather straps scrape against his cheeks and his ears in an annoying way. His shoulders are becoming sore from the extended period of time his hands have been bounded to his nape. And his anus is totally sore from the long, unpleasant intrusion of the fat wooden shaft digging in his backside. 

He tries to groan to indicate that he’d like a break, but either the guide and Ed don’t hear him, or they simply don’t care. He stumbles one or two times, but his guide always make sure he doesn’t fall, then keep going once he has caught back his balance. As they keep going, Theon’s mind goes numb and he finds out he cannot think about anything anymore. He doesn’t care about the people looking at him anymore, either in mirth or contempt. All his mind can think about is that he yearns like never before to go back in Lord Robb’s rooms and curl on his rug, or lay in his itchy cot. 

It comes as a surprise when finally, after a turn in a street full of laughing people, Theon sees a door to the wall circling the castle. He feels relief wash over him at the realisation that his torments would soon be finished, that his tormentors would soon make him stop his run. And indeed, when finally they reach the door to the wall, he’s made to slow down to a slow jog, then a walk. By then he’s panting for breath through his nose, and condensation raises in the air from his nose. He can feel sweat run down his whole body, making him shiver in the chilly air.

He feels it’s a blessing when finally they reach the door to the stables, and pass the door, the guards on horses leaving them to get their mounts back in the other stables. Even if it was not for the other guards waiting inside the room, Theon would not try to run for an escape. Right now he’s so out of breath and aching from everywhere because of his run that the only thought he has is to crash down on the first available surface.

The guide, showing far less signs of being exhausted by the long race around the streets of Winterfell, unbinds the pole from his collar, and leans it against a wall. When he comes back to Theon, he is surprised by the way the taller man puts his hand behind Theon’s neck and rubs him there, as well as the back of his head and his shoulders. After a small two heartbeats of shock at the affectionate gesture, Theon closes his eyes and lets his respiration calm down some.

“You’ve done well, pet! It was a small run, but with time we’ll get you used to run even further, and even faster. Now, we’ll make you work these thin arms of yours. Come on, walk to the bench over there! Now, don’t give me this bad attitude!”

The guide adds when he sees Theon groans with indignation and try to get away with the little resistance he can still muster through his exhaustion. His arms aren’t thin. They’re just finely muscled. The guide takes Theon by the shoulders and urges him to move forward to the benches, until he’s standing face to one. 

“Come on, obey and Ed here won’t give you too much of the paddle! Now, I’m going to unbind your hands and massage them to insure a good circulation there. Don’t try anything, you wouldn’t like the consequences!”

The guide does as he said, and it isn’t long before Theon is made to crawl over the bench so that his legs are leaning on it while his arms support his upper body on the floor. Under the instructions the guide, and the prompting smacks of the paddle against his rear, Theon doesn’t think twice about bending his arms and lowering his upper body near the floor, then pushing in his arms to move up, and so on. He doesn’t count how many times he has to execute the move, the dangling bells still ringing loudly in his ears as a reminder of the shaming things hung on his erected manhood. He does notice at some point the sounds of other men coming in the room and ushering another panting person on the other side of the room. He assumes it must be Jon, but when he cranes his neck and tries to look to confirm his doubts, the guide moves his chin forward and Ed gives him some well-felt smacks with the paddle. After that he doesn’t try to look around anymore, and just let his eyes look forward and fix a point on the wall. The guide allows him some small breaks once in a while, and then makes Theon resume his new exercise. It’s only when his arms are too weak to carry his weight any longer that the guide calls it a day.

Theon barely listens as he lets himself fall gracelessly on the floor, feet still remaining over the bench. But he doesn’t care how ridiculous he must look, half slumped on the floor, manhood straining in his harness and buttocks spread by the immense phallus between his legs, horse tail tucked under his left thigh. He’s panting for breath as hard as he’s ever been made to, and he’s as wet from sweating as if he has dived into sea water. The stony floor is mercifully cool against his flushed skin. Right now he could go back to sleep so exhausted he feels, even if they’re still in the morning. 

Theon feels hands pull in his exhausted shoulders and his arms, and he lets the guide and Ed pull him to his feet, and then walk his limp body toward the cubicles. To his relief, he’s not made to walk for long. The stablemen seem to sense that he’s too exhausted to bother walking too far, and simply lead him to one of the first free stall in sight. He doesn’t resist as the two other men bend him gently on a table, legs outstretched and bound to the table legs as they’ve done earlier before making him run. They pull off his long, knee high boots thought. And this time, they let his arms free. Not that it’s much use seeing how exhausted and painful they feel. Yet he’s so relieved when he feels expert hands unwrap the harness in which he’s been put, starting with the one on his torso, then relieving him of the one on his waist and trapping his genitals. He hums his hips in empty air as he feels his cock strain to find some friction, to the mirth of the men laughing behind him at the sight of such lustful display. It’s a relief when they pull off the harness on his face, though they keep the gag in his mouth.

As he’s still gasping for breath through his gag, Theon hears other footsteps behind him, as well as the sound of water sploshing around. And _by the Gods, he feels so thirsty_ ! He’d do anything to get some cool water down his parched throat. He has to muffle a pleading moan from pouring out of his mouth. He refuses to beg like a weak bitch to get it. He doesn’t know why, but he nearly feel like crying when he feels a hand rub his rump in a soothing way, and a voice hush him softly from behind.

“Don’t worry, pet! We’ll take great care of you!” 

His guide says soothingly. 

Theon hears again the sounds of sploshing water, and his nose is filled with the smell of fresh soap. He jumps and gasp in shock while his hands clench on the table edge in a vigorous grip when he feels something wet and warm drip on his back. It’s soon followed by a wet cloth lathering his shoulders, then his upper back. He feels himself relax and cannot swallow down a purr before it’s out of his shameful mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it pet! You can relax now! We’ll make you feel all nice and clean!” 

The guide says in a soothing voice while lathering Theon’s sides. Theon feels the cloth lather his whole body in a soothing, intransigent way. It doesn’t miss a spot as it travels down his legs to his feet, then clean the sole of it and his whole toes while massaging it in a way which sends shivers of pleasure up Theon’s spine and down his groin. It takes a while for him to realise that the sounds he hears fill his ears are none other than his own purrs and moans of pleasure. He feels himself blush with this knowledge. And just as the cloth climbs up again on his legs in an insistent way, there’s no shyness about the way it roams on his butt cheeks, then travels down his cleft, rubbing the sensitive skin around the phallus filling his entrance. 

Then it goes around his sack and laves them thoroughly, before wrapping itself around Theon’s erected cock and rubbing it in a way which evokes a good wanking. Theon finds himself shamelessly bucking his hips and thrusting his manhood in the clothed fist, desperate to find his release. But the hands cleaning him are merciless. He hears chuckles behind him, and then Ed, who has been cleaning his face and his arms all along, lifts him by the shoulders so that the other man can rub the cloth over his chest and his stomach. The new position forces his cock to strain between his legs in an unpleasant way, and even trying to hump the table doesn’t bring as much pleasure as he’d like. So Theon breaths through his nose and impatiently bid his time while the cloth rubs on the sensitive skin of his pelvis.

When the clothed hand finally leaves his flushed skin, Theon closes his eyes and nearly whines in despair. Gods, he’s so horny, it doesn’t bear any comparison. Even clenching his stretched walls around the invader in his backside sends jolts of pleasure up his spine and all around his body. He feels all kinds of frustrated as time passes and still no more caress or friction or anything is applied on his needy member. Movements in front of him make him look forward, up at his guide standing in front of him with a leveled expression which hides a small smile. He lifts a hand and brushes Theon’s soothingly, before yanking the phallus free from his mouth. 

Theon is so surprised by the sudden absence of obstruction in his mouth that he finds himself speechless. It’s only now that his teeth do not meet any resistance that Theon notices how much he has clenched, and bit on the wooden toy to relieve himself of his anxiety while he was running or walking around or straining his arms to execute the training the guide has wanted of him. His tongue feels all restless now that it cannot rub against the hard wood like it was doing absentmindedly since not long after he got it in his mouth. He feels ashamed and totally debilitated about missing it, yet he cannot brush the feeling aside. 

Something smaller and cooler, but just as hard hits his lips, and Theon opens up right away, cursing himself a heartbeat later about how much of a wrecked his mind is to just accept the invasion like a nice bitch. As his lips close around the foreign object, his tongue explores it, and finds a hole at his head, a little bit like…the head of a cock. He wants to spit out what he now realises is a glass funnel shaped like an L, but with the receiving end shaped like a phallus. He curses at the way everything seems to be revolved around phallic shaped intruders. 

But all his thoughts are washed away by the first few drops of cool water hitting his tongue and trickling down his throat, relieving his parched throat instantly. His eyes close with bliss and he moans in rapture, then in despair as he feels the small river come to an end. Chuckles rise before him, the two other men laughing at his expenses. He must admit to himself how indecent he must have seemed to the two other men, and he blushes with shame and anger.

“Small sips first, pet! Or else you will get cramps or throw up!” The guide says.

Theon looks at the young, stocky man with dark hairs and piercing blue eyes. But he barely has the time to look him over that another rivulet of cool water trickling on his tongue and down his throat makes him close his eyes. He lets the man administer him more sips of water, longer and longer, until he feels himself gorged on the cool substance. When finally the two men are done with him, the phallus is trusted back into Theon’s mouth, who barely resists, and only for the form. His hands are tied perpendicular to his body, in a loose enough way that he doesn’t hurt.

He thinks the two men are leaving him, when he hears footsteps stop just behind him. He gasps when he feels the phallus in his backside move in him, thrusting in the most primal way against his insides, increasing the fire in his gut. One hand covers his manhood and pulls at it once, twice, thrice and Theon is totally done, reaching a climax as potent as he has had only since he’s been made a slave. 

His eyes close, and he drifts off to sleep with soft murmurs of “you’ve done well, pet!” and fingers rubbing his scalp with affection. The last thing his fuzzy mind notice before getting into oblivion is the heavy blanket put over him, and the feeling of warmth spreading over his body.

* * * * * 

Theon rouses from his deep slumber to the feeling of someone fondling his hairs and urging him to wake up with a soft voice. He shivers as he notices that the warm, heavy blanket is gone and that he’s now exposed to the cooler air of the cubicles. Yet, as his eyes flutter open, he comes to the realisation that he rested better there, bounded and with both orifices plugged than in his cot in Lord Robb’s chambers. The only other times he remember having rested so well is on his first day as a slave, while he was still so shocked and confused, and Lord Robb’s gentle hand had been his only comfort.

Since having woken up the next morning, Theon had felt so resentful, so revolted and angry for his tamed behavior from the day before. All the things he had done, and nearly as meekly as a mouse or a bitch! He had felt so ashamed for his Ironborn status, and the Greyjoy lineage, to have bent the knee nearly right away. Ever since he has tolerated all the pain, all the discomfort and the torture his master has imposed on him if only so that nobody could say that an Ironborn slave is as good as any Greenlander. 

Theon hears a loud _Smack_ resounds in the small cubicle, and he jumps with a gasp a few seconds before his mind registers the pain coming from his sore bottom. He winces, then glares at the young stableman who has been his guide and his main caretaker since his arrival in early morning.

“Feeling better after a good little nap pet?” 

The man with the pale blue eyes says while rubbing his back with strong, brief motions which show his efficiency. Theon finds himself nodding his head lazily and humming his ascent before he has time to think about it. He curses himself a heartbeat later for this display of good behaviour, which makes the stableman chuckle lightly. 

“There’s no need to pretend to be the strong and willful Ironborn with me, pet! I’m here to make you sweat it off, just as chief Burrich is there to insure you don’t forget about your new rank!” 

The other man says as he rubs the back of Theon’s neck like he would a dog.

“Now I’m going to feed you, then off you go for your afternoon tasks”

The young man says, proceeding to pull the plug out of Theon’s mouth before getting a tray of food and the stool to sit on while Theon exercises his sore jaws.  
The smell of gruel is heaven to his empty stomach, and he nearly moans in bliss when he realises that it’s warm, and with a hint of fruits in it.

He swallows ravenously each spoonful his trainer gives him with the help of a long handle, wooden flat spoon, relishing the feeling of his empty stomach being filled. After that, the other man helps him wash it down thanks to the same glass fuel he has used earlier.

As said, after having finished feeding Theon, the other man pulls back the wooden phallus in Theon’s mouth, and then releases his bounds and leads him barefoot in the end of the room in which he has been introduced to Burrich and harnessed. He’s glad to notice that the long horsetail, as well as the dangling bells, have been removed while he slept. It’s only when he reaches the place that Theon realises that he has meekly followed the bulkier man as he led him by a hand on the shoulder, not even needing a leash or various sets of hands. Theon blushes when he sees the small smirk playing on the lips of the massive stableman chief, who feels obviously smug about him being complacent in less than day of training. Instead, he focuses his eyes on his fellow slave mate, Jon, who seems all sullen and flustered as he stands, still fully harnessed, between two other stable hands. Theon notices that his rear is all red from spankings, and that the other lad refuses to look up, his watery eyes casted down while some stray tears run down his cheeks. Yet he looks all graceful and proud in his willful stance.

For the sake of not looking pathetically weak and docile, not while Jon seems all dignified even through his tears and blushes, nor in front of the smiling smugly Burrich, Theon decides impulsively to snatch his shoulder from his guide’s soothing hand. He raises his chin and looks in challenge in the eyes of the master of the slaves’ kennels. The rough, throaty laugh of Burrich and the low chuckle of the guide makes Theon blush and feel all kinds of childish.

“We’ll take care of that in no time, Ironborn. Now slaves, your morning training is finished, and I’ve been told that Mister Poole will take charge of you for the afternoon. But now, while we’re still waiting for him to send for you, I want to give you a reminder of who you’re dealing with and why you’d better learn to act all meek and good when you’re here! Each one of you will be given a taste of the paddle, on my knees! I want you to count them, and say Thank you Master Burrich!”

They barely have time to cringe at the notion of yet another spanking to their already sore bottoms. Just as the massive slaves’ trainer sits in a wide armchair, which seems to be there expressly for that purpose, Jon is led resisting by two stablemen to the now sitting man. His mouth is freed of the wooden phallus by one man while the other one guides him on Burrich’s knees. Seeing as he still has his arms bounded on his nape, Jon stops struggling so as to not fall on the ground face first.

Theon watches mesmerized as the massive man’s hands cover the small, round rear of his fellow slave mate, squeezing the red flesh then spreading the cheeks apart so as to test its suppleness. When he slips a hand between the cheeks and starts playing with the phallus there, retrieving it some before pushing it deeper, Jon groans and stomps one foot in protestation. One loud barehanded slap on his rear cut down his struggle.

The stableman chief puts his hand in a jar on a small table nearby, then dabs a generous amount of some greasy substance on Jon’s bottom before spreading it evenly on the small rear. “So that you won’t tear!” He tells a panicked Jon. Then he seize a paddle, and tells him that he has earned himself 10 strokes of it, and to not forget to count them out loud. 

Jon doesn’t though. He lets the first hit go and clenches his eyes shut as he grits his teeth. Burrich makes a dramatic pause to leave him some time to say what he’s been instructed to say. Then he hits again. And again, and again. Theon can count six hits of the paddle, all accompanied with a yelp and a cringe, before Jon sobs, then says “One! Thank you Master Burrich!”

From then on, the boy hurries to enumerate the hits and thank the man providing them, crying and in between each new smack of the paddle. He becomes all flustered and clammy with sweat in no time. Theon finds himself being all flustered, but for another reason. His eyes are riveted on the rear of the spanked slave as he takes in the sight of his supple, reddened cheeks, the way they bounces and clench, then move as Jon buckle his hips in reflex. The sight of the end of the wooden phallus moving between his cheeks has Theon swallow and look away in shame as his manhood becomes warm with blood, then hardens more and more. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm wrap around him and cradles him closer against his guide’s chest. His other hand is gripping his erected cock right away, teasing it with light touches before grasping it more firmly and tugging at it, then going back to light touches. He gives a half try to dislodge himself from the firm hold of the other man, but is unsuccessful at it. It only makes his captor chuckle louder in his ear.

The spanking stops, but Jon’s sobs still echo against the stony walls for a while longer. But then even they come to a stop as Theon sees the brute man maneuver Jon into a sitting position, on his laps. Jon whines as his sore rear comes in contact with the hard flesh, but calms when Burrich wrap his hands around his smaller frame and pats his hair some, whispering softly in his ears. Jon goes limp against him, his sniffling and panting calmed to normal. Then Burrich presses the wooden phallus against Jon’s lips, who hesitates only slightly before swallowing it back in his mouth. Once well-bounded, Burrich makes Jon stands then push him gently toward where he was standing before his spanking, making him stumble gracelessly before a stableman takes him by the arm to walk him back there.

As he comes face to him, Theon cannot refrain himself from looking down at Jon, peering at his flushed cheeks and his calmed eyes before his eyes travel down his body and focus on his near erected manhood. Jon blushes and his eyes narrow as he looks at Theon in challenge, daring him to say anything about his aroused state. Then he looks down at his erected member and Theon is sure he sees a hint of smugness behind his surprised frown.

Theon jumps again when he feels himself being pushed forward, toward Burrich, who waits for him still in his sitting position. Seeing as his hands aren’t bound, it would be so much easier for him to resist than it was for Jon. Yet he sees the haughty way half a dozen stablemen look at him, and refuses to give them the satisfaction of putting their hands on him to restrain him. He looks in challenge at Burrich when the man looks at his hard manhood, then back up at Theon’s face. He smirks at Theon before grasping his cock in a strong, wide hand. Theon gasps as he tenses all over.

“I see that it arouses you to look at another slave being trashed around by a paddle.” He grumps with mirth.

The other man removes the phallus from Theon’s mouth so that he can answer to the chief slaves’ trainer. Theon can’t refrain himself from rubbing his tongue against his palate, feeling weird about the absence of the phallus between his teeth. Yet he composes himself soon enough and lifts his chin as he answers back to the massive man.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t your eyes I was looking at!” Theon says with a cocked smile on his lips, although the last thing he feels like now is smiling.

His jest makes the brutal man laugh with low, throaty chuckles. 

“Tell me, cocky slave, will you still want to laugh and make jokes when you get acquainted with my paddle?” He says more softly, his tone almost seducing.

“Certainly less than when I look at your face!” Theon says before mentally berating himself for the great trashing he’s sure to get because of his cheek.

Burrich snickers, then he squeezes Theon’s cock hard, making him wince in pain, and much to his shame, in arousal.

“Then come get your thrashing, cocky slave!”

With that, Burrich and the other man maneuver him over the massive man’s laps, hands supporting his weight so that he doesn’t fall face first, his hips resting on the man while his legs remains on the floor, spread by many nudges of both men. He gasps and buckles in surprise when he feels his manhood being trapped between Burrich’s knees. A moan escapes him, between pleasure and pain as he’s genitals are squeezed more tightly against the other man’s strong body.

“For you it will be double the usual ration, slave! Twenty stokes of the paddle. Your ass will hope your mouth stops being all insolent before I’m done!”

Just as he had done with Jon, Burrich palms his buttocks, massaging them and spreading them wide apart, then playing with the toy in him. Theon shivers in pleasure at that, his hips instinctively buckling and trying to thrust between the man’s knees. But he finds out he cannot move his hips one bit because of his trapped manhood. Grease is applied to his bottom, even if it seems less sore than Jon’s. Then the first stroke of the paddle hits his backside, making him yelp.

He refuses to give in as easily as Jon has done. Even if it means more pain, his ego refrains him from starting his enumeration faster than Jon did. As the paddle crashes with his bottom again and again, Theon bears through at least eight strokes, which means more than Jon has suffered through before his own enumeration, and then Theon opens his mouth to do as asked of him. By then the pain is already so searing in his backside that tears are forming behind his closed eyelids and small whines of pain escape his throat at each hits.

Smack

“One! Thank you Master Burrich!” He finally moans with a hoarse voice.

It surprises him when he feels the tip of the paddle rub lightly against his sore cheeks, then slip in his crease and push against the plug in him, the fat base preventing the contraption from being swallowed inside him. Yet jolts of pleasure in there make him moan in something else than pain.

It soon becomes a torment. Burrich would give him some harsh, vicious hits of the paddle, making waves of pain travel from his agonised backside to the rest of his body, then he would move his knees to create friction over his leaking cock, or caress his balls or play with the phallus in his orifice, replacing pain with some pleasure. Half through his chastisement, Theon’s body is already confused between agony and bliss, his cheeks flushed in shame as he moans in pleasure-laced pain, or pain-laced pleasure. It all become so overwhelming that he loses track of all the independent pains and pleasures running through him and he shivers from the intense feeling rushing through his veins. He feels it all culminate to the point where he’s sure he will explode soon, 

Even through the haze of intense feeling running through him, Theon doesn’t lose count of the hits, stammering them more and more hoarsely in between moans and whines. 

Theon barely has time to stammer “Twenty, Thank you Master Burrich!” that the man releases his hold on his genitals an maneuver him around like he would a rag doll. The moves are so fast that Theon feels his head spins from the speed. One moment he’s laying across the man’s laps, the next he’s sitting back to him, legs widely spread around the bulkier man’s own. Theon jumps when he feels his tender bottom make contact with the man’s laps, but a strong arm around his arms and torso and another one at the base of his straining prick immobilises him. He has a small glimpse of the stablemen and Jon, all leering at him either with a smirk, or in fascination, like his guide does, or even with shamed desire, as he thinks Jon is now doing, although he looks down the moment he sees Theon’s eyes are on him.

It’s all too much for Theon. He closes his eyes as his hips try to buckle to trust his aching cock in Burrich’s strong fist. But it’s all futile. The other man is as unmovable as a boulder. A boulder who snickers behind him before brushing his lips against Theon’s ear.

“I see that you don’t just like seeing other slaves being trashed, pet. You also like to be trashed yourself, isn’t it?” 

Burrich whispers loud enough so that everyone can hear. Many chuckle at that comment, and Theon glares at them. Yet another tug at his cock has him keening in need. Gods, he’s so close to come, if only Burrich could stop teasing him! 

“Look at you, all desperate and leaking like a lusty whore! I’m sure you’re all mouthy and insolent just so that you can get more attention to your rear! Beg like a proper bitch, and I might let you come.” 

He adds in a gruff, yet seducing tone. Theon whines again, tears in his eyes. He cannot debase himself so low that he would have to beg for some release, yet the lust coursing through his veins, pooling in a boiling pit of lava in his groin, rends him mad and desperate for release. 

“Pl… please.” 

He stammers, unable to say more. Not when half a small crowd looks at him with smugness and condescension. 

He hears loud chortles behind him, as he vibrates with the rising and falling chest behind him. The hand tighten on his shaft, gives one thrust. Then is gone. 

“You’ll have to learn how to beg with earnest before I help you reach your release, slave!” Burrich says with a low, grumpy voice. 

Theon grunts in rage and exasperation, tears falling from his eyes. Burrich pushes him off his laps, rising with Theon to maintain his hold on him. 

“You, get him his harness! Same on the other one!” He orders, nodding at Theon’s guide to fetch the damned leather bindings. 

“You fucking tease! I swear I’ll make you pay, you shit-face mfff…” 

Theon starts to groan, his neck craned so that he can look at his captor’s face from the periphery of his eyes. But he’s not even halfway done with his ranting that Burrich shoves the wooden phallus back in his mouth, cutting him off in surprise. He tries to struggle to avoid the leather harnesses the bulky man with pale eyes who has taken care of him earlier is bringing to him, but Burrich is fast at pinching a tendon in his neck which immobilises him with pain. In no time the expert hands fasten the harnesses on his head to hold his gag, and the one trapping his manhood and his cock so that he cannot come. The moment the last clasp click in place, a loud clapping resounds against the stony wall

He turns his head and would have cursed if not for the gag in his mouth at the sight of shaggy dark hairs and blue eyes Will beaming and clapping as if he has just seen the nicest show. The man is such a bane, always teasing Theon and laughing at him. Theon always make sure to give him a double serving of insolence, just so that the man doesn’t get in his mind that Theon is all coy and weak. As a result, they always jest at the other’s expanse. Behind him, three other men Theon knows for being among the regulars in Robb’s guards look at them with mirth and smirks on their lips.

“Nice one, Burrich! As always, I like your way of handling slaves,” The guard says to the massive slaves’ trainer. 

“Thank you, pal! Come here any time if you want to glimpse more of my slave lessons. Now off you go, slaves! See you tomorrow morning!” Burrich roars with mirth.

And with no more words, the guards seize them and escort them toward the door.  
Just before they go, Theon’s guide, he can’t think of him otherwise, approaches him and caresses his nape, whispering a low “See you tomorrow, pet!” 

Theon is startled by the tender, seducing words. He doesn’t know if he feels more as if it is a promise of more torments or friendly gestures, yet he must confess to himself that he hopes this man will be his guide, or trainer tomorrow.

“Come on, Ramsay! There’s work to be done and it won’t be done alone!” Burrich roars, his back already to them as he walks toward the aisle of cubicles. 

And with that, Theon’s guide turns around with a last small smile and Theon loses sight of him as he’s dragged past the door.

* * * * * 

JON

There is something eerie in being in front of Vayon Poole, his father’s steward, while he is naked, harnessed with a wooden manhood in his mouth and another one up his rear, as well as sporting a full-fledged, leaking erection. His bottom is still feeling white hot from Master Burrich’s strong paddling, and his face is still all wet and flushed from having cried. Fortunately, the man is looking at Jon as he would any other slave, rather than the boy he has seen grow since he was a babe. 

Although his stable handlers have been kind enough to massage the tension away after they made him run through Winterfell streets, a hardship less for the body than for his ego, he still feels all sored and in great turmoil. The physical exhaustion doesn’t seem to have calmed him as it did Theon, who seemed all lax and compliant when that Ramsay boy led him before Burrich. 

It still is funny to have the Bolton Bastard work as a slave trainer. Since father had received him in training and seen how neglected the boy has been, he has offered Roose Bolton to take in Ramsay and offer him a good position in the castle. Jon has heard his father has great hopes of seeing Ramsay become the next stable slave trainer once Burrich will retire. The boy seems fine with this great position, judging how enthusiastic he is about training and petting the slaves he has in charge. Theon will sure learn to behave with him.

A sound of throat clearing brings back Jon to the present. 

“We won’t waste time with explanations, treats and reprimands, slaves. My name is Vayon Poole, I’m the steward here, and I see to it that the castle is clean and in order. Each afternoon, you will report to me so that I can attribute you a task. And of course, you will do it, like it or not! Today I want you to scrub clean the main halls of the first floor of the keep. The buckets of water are already waiting for you here, as well as brushes in it. A servant will pass from time to time to switch it with fresh water. The guards already know how to gear you. Start working now!”

The steward says, then turns around and walks away, as if they were of no importance. Jon is confused about what he meant by gear. Do they need some more harnesses to work? Certainly they wouldn’t tie their hands and expect them to brush the floor with their mouth, that would be ridicule! Theon seems as confused as him. But then, a guard approach Theon with a now familiar kind of harness, and Theon grunts in protestation and rolls his eyes in an expression Jon would find funny if he was not feeling the same thing. 

He doesn’t go on all four whole-heartedly, does even need to be pushed lightly by one guard as Will waits for him to get in position. But it doesn’t take long before the witty shaggy man puts the humbler behind his tights, his red balls being trapped behind them. He attaches some leather knee caps on his knees, then hands him a brush and a bucket. Jon can’t even resist one bit. His arms are still bound over his nape when the man urges him to the floor, torso and shoulders supporting his upper body as he is harnessed with the humbler.

Soon enough, Theon and he are both crawling while brushing the stony floor, each one on perpendicular halls so that they cannot see the progresses or lack off of the other. 

Passersby’s’ chuckle and smirk at his sight. Some even get to lower down and ruffle his hairs or swat his bottom lightly under the guards permission. They even allow them to play with the end of the phallus protruding from his rear, much to Jon’s ashamed pleasure. But none of them are allowed to touch him further, or distract him from his task for long. The guards make sure of it.

It feels awkward in the beginning, Jon having never rubbed a floor cleaned. It takes no time before his hands are soaked wet and sticky with the soap and the dust on the floor. Yet he gives himself to the task, one guard having paddled him two or three times to remind him of the pain of not complying. They keep the phallic gags in their mouths though. It’s fascinating, and humiliating, how much Jon has come to draw comfort from the sensation of rubbing his tongue over the wooden shaft. It reminds him of Sam’s manhood that first evening in the dining hall. He hasn’t mouthed a manhood ever since, not when he was resisting with all his might. Robb has had the wisdom of keeping anyone’s genitals far from Jon’s mouth, in case he would bite in it. Yet he feels a certain fondness, as well as lust pour through his groin, at the memory of the silky manhood in his mouth, the way it had felt against his tongue, how arousing and calming it had been to toy with it with his tongue, rub it between his lips. The wooden taste was a poor replacement of the musky and salty taste of Sam’s manhood, yet there was still something soothing in it. 

Jon loses himself to his reveries, remembering his discoveries of sex between men, both with Sam and Robb. He becomes all hot and bothered, his whole groin growing progressively more and more painful from the strain in his manhood, and he must be blushing like a maiden by the sneers and the knowing glances he gets from his guards. At least Will is with Theon, so he cannot jest on him. Yet, even if he berates himself over thinking about all these naughty things he has done, and even enjoyed, with Sam and Robb, there is no pulling them away in his mind. They remain vivid and fully present in his confused and aroused as hell mind.

From time to time, A guard pulls out the gag from his mouth, only to replace it with the tip of a flask. The water down his throat always feels like a bliss. He never feels like struggling when the phallic gag is replaced in his mouth, although he does glare at the guards and groan in protest for the form.

He loses totally track of time, scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing as he goes backward to not kneel in a puddle of water. As promised, from time to time a serving maid comes replace the dirty water with a bucket of fresh, warm water. That and the few breaks for a drink are the only time markers. Yet he totally loses track of time. 

He doesn’t know how long he has been at it when a serving maid arrives in front of him and his two guards. Jon doesn’t stop his work, arms all tired and cramped from the repetitive, tiresome motions. Yet after a small while, he notices that she is not replacing his bucket of water. He raises his eyes and sees her talk to the guard. Yet, they are some distance away, and from their low voices, Jon cannot ear much of what they say. He only distinguishes some words, such as “Lord Robb”, “training” and “clean first” before a guard nods and whisper an answer to her. Then she turns around and walks away while the guards walk back to him. 

“Enough scrubbing for today, slave.” 

The man says as he kneels behind Jon and removes the leather knee caps, then the humbler while the other one takes the brush from him and dumps it and the bucket along the wall. 

As always after a humbler has been removed from him, his balls feels heavy in his sack and painful from the long strain put on them. He sits on his knees right away to alleviate some of the tensions, massaging them with one hand to sooth them. The guards allow him that small moment to himself, insuring that he does not take advantage of it to remove the bindings there or pleasure himself. Then they take him by the shoulders and pull him upward. Jon feels so exhausted from all the exertion of the day, worsened by a fortnight of barely sleeping due to stress, frustration and pain from punishments, that he needs help to move forward. 

The guards talk no further as they lead Jon around the halls, and he doesn’t think about much but to get one foot in front of the other without stumbling or falling over. He feels some dread fill him when he sees that they are heading toward another place designed for slaves. He has come that way some times when he was younger, or in the few moons before his enslavement, but as always been rebuked by the guards posted around this area. Only servants and guards, and occasionally guesses have a right to visit the place. 

Yet he breaths in relief when he enters a room and sees a vast room filled with tubs, and the smells of clean soap and flagrant perfumes hit his nose. The guards lead him to one steaming tub, not too far from the door. Two young men, barely a few years older than Jon, are waiting there, all dressed in crispy white clothes with black tabards on them. While the guards walk away from him, the young men make it a fast task to unravel Jon from his leather bindings, all but the one on his genitals.

“Who are you?” He slurs when they release him from his wooden gag. It feels so strange when his tongue hit directly his palate, nothing obstructing its way. 

“We are grooms for the slaves.” One says, but is soon cut by his fellow mate.

“Shush, slave! You are not allowed to talk in our presence. Only when a master or a trainer is here.” The other one says.

With that Jon asks no more questions, and simply comply when the young grooms push him in the water. The water is heavenly when he finally slips in the tub. He moans out loud, too tired and wounded up to feel any shame about how lewd it sounded even to his ears. He has had to train for sword fighting before, but it has never been as draining as this whole slave training thing. When he tries to grab a bar of soap, he realises that there are none available. He realises why when the grooms start to clean him with delicate, expert hands. It surprises him, and makes him feel awkward, but at the prompting of one of the young men, he leans back against the tub and starts to relax.

Jon notices that two other grooms are waiting beside a tub across from him, the water steaming between them. He wonders why, until a commotion near the door reminds him that Theon must not be far. And indeed, soon enough the other slave enters the room, held between two other guards. He’s grunting through his gag as Will makes him walk in the room while squeezing his balls. The shaggy guard is laughing as he tells him to learn to walk less lazily. The grooms snicker as the other guard smirks. Theon glares with outrage, but Jon can tell that it’s half-felted at the most. There’s something casual in the whole scene, and as the other grooms unwrap all the leather bindings over Theon, but for the one on his genitals, and they pull the phallic gag out of his mouth, Jon is sure he sees a small grin form on the Ironborn lips. Whatever happened with Will and the other guard, the other slave seems to be more comfortable in their presence than it seemed before they splat. Certainly all their banters. 

Jon relaxes again back in the tub, closing his eyes as he mutes down the small cacophony happening at the other side of the room. He would certainly never admit it out loud, but he’s starting to enjoy being able to just relax while other people take care of him and his body, cleaning and massaging him with great efficiency. It makes him feel cherished, cared for. One of the grooms lathers some flagrant soap in his curls, then pass a comb through it while it’s all slippery. The massage the small points of the comb gives him nearly make him purr like a cat. After that, the groom even take a razor to the few hairs growing on his jaws, then he’s left to relax some more.

He’s happily dozing off, unaware of the time passing, when a sudden onslaught of cool water make him tense over and gasp in shock. He instantly curls with his knees against his chest and his arms over his head to protect himself, but the rush of cool water is already finished. Although it warms him as the water around him is now on the wrong side of tepid. 

The grooms laugh, and before he has a chance to say anything, the one who seems more inclined to talk open his mouth to speak in a voice filled with mirth.

“You looked like you needed it! The day is still not finished; it wouldn’t do for you to be all sleepy.”

Jon feels the intense desire to hit the young man and see if he smiles as much when dumped in cold water, but a laugh on the other side of the room distract him. He turns his head and sees Theon laughing at his expense, curled over himself as he shakes with hilarity.

“Mate, you look so much like a pouty cub right now, you should look at you!”

Jon is about to tell him to go fuck himself, or something as nasty, when he sees Theon’s two grooms approach him from behind with buckets of water. He decides to keep quiet about it, and watch with great joy as the two young men dump cool water over Theon’s head. His shocked screech his music to Jon’s ears, just as he can’t resist laughing out loud when he sees the other slave tense over and glare mutinously at the other chuckling grooms.

“Mate, you look like a sour mongrel yourself!” He says between loud chuckles

Theon looks back at him, and then snickers.

“Enough fooling around, slaves! Grooms, dry them off, and feed them some. They’re expected elsewhere and soon!”

A guard bellows, even though there is still a small mile on his lips.

It isn’t long before the grooms have dried them off, then walked them in another small room beside the one with the tubs. They make Theon and him kneel on small cushion in front of the fireplace, then, like the stablemen have done in the morning, feed them some salty gruel with slices of meat in it with a long wooden spoon.

By now, Jon is tempted to resist being hand-fed by his grooms, but the leather paddles he sees hanging on their hips convince him that he has had enough paddling for the day. So he simply puts his hands on his nape when instructed to, and let the older men force spoonful of the warm, tasty gruel in his mouth.

* * * * * 

Jon swallows as he steps into a vast room, still in the slaves’ quarters. The room has two vast fireplaces, as well as many torches burning so that it’s warm and well lit. Alcoves host beds with curtains, some pulled closed to give some privacy, and some draped open so that slaves on it are visible, some sleeping while some other participate in… sensuous activities. Several kinds of position devices, tables and large stands emulating the display table Jon has been on with Theon, Sam and Smalljon are scattered in the room, so that it’s easy for anyone to walk around. The walls are covered in some places with paddles, whips and spanking devices, while harnesses hang from other places, as well as cuffs and many other deviant objects. There are also tables along the walls all covered with phallic objects, strings of beads, pinches and many other devices Jon doesn’t know the use of.

He sees about half a dozen slaves bounded by chains hanging down the ceiling, some of them bounded with their feet attached to their wrists, so that their sexes are totally exposed to the hands of tormentors, while some other are lying on some kind of swing, legs and arms bounded each on one chain while another slave plunder their sex, or the anus when it’s a male, with phalluses or manhood.

The room smells heavy with sweat, musk, and fragrant perfumes. And more than anything; sex. It’s so heady that Jon finds himself instantly light-headed and disoriented as he takes in the mix of smells, sounds and sights of arousal and fornication the room is filled with. He has never been to a brothel, but for the tales he has heard of it, he’s sure he has just stepped in something quite similar, if not even more debauched. Yet there is some kind of grace, and luxury about it which makes the room look enticing and not out of place in the castle.

A woman with a light, transparent red gown approaches them, her feminine curves and ivory white skin more revealed and embellished by the mesh fabric than hidden by it. She has red curls dangling loosely from a brooch holding them behind, full, enticing lips which seem to be a testimony of great kisses and blue, piercing eyes which mesmerise him. There’s something of a predator in the graceful way she walks toward them, both seducing, yet dangerous like a feline. 

“So here are our new recruits! I nearly feared you would never grace me and my rooms with your presence.”

She says in a low, seducing voice filled with humour and something Jon has hard time naming. Could it be desire? Jon blushes as he looks down, then up again when he notices he’s staring at the feminine curves and the clean curls on the mound between his legs. He swallows again, not knowing how to react. Theon, on his side, looks at the woman like a hungry man would look at a fresh honey cake with generous portions of cream and jam.

The woman slowly turns around Theon, a hand grazing his torso then his waist as she looks him over with appreciation. She licks her lips sensuously as her hand roams up Theon’s chest to grab his jaws, then looks him in the eyes. It’s most obvious that Theon is mesmerised by her, hips jittery and eyes hooded with desire. 

“You must be Theon, the Ironborn prince. I see it in you, the boldness, the lust, the savagery. I’m sure it won’t make much work to make you enjoy all facets of carnal pleasure. But you’ll have to learn to do as asked, and when. I’ll help you with it, pet!”

She says in a low, sensuous voice which makes both Theon and Jon shiver with excitation and arousal. Theon whines low in his throat when she releases her grasp on him and walks away to advance toward Jon.

Just as the woman has done with Theon, she walks around Jon with a hand touching him in a feather-light way, his skin feeling burnt by the barely there contact. She hums appreciatively before facing him again and grabbing his jaws between delicate fingers. He feels his knees buckle when she looks him in the eyes to scrutinise him and his breath turn shallowly. He wants more of this, and he wants to run away from her touch like he would a poisonous snake. She seems to sense it, seeing the small sneer she does and the knowing glare she gives him.

“And you are Jon, the bastard of Winterfell. All good, and proper and honorable. Yet, under your icy composure, there is lust in you, burning like fire through your veins. It’s a wonder smoke doesn’t come out of you as if you were on fire. And you dread a woman’s touch. Don’t worry, young wolf! I’ll make sure you come to accept your sexuality, reveal in it even, no matter by which means!”

Jon shivers as he feels lust poor in his groin at such profane, dirty words, yet such a delectable and tempting promise. He blushes, and pants, and feels ready to explode or go mad with lust. He feels angry and wants to revolt against her promises, not wanting to be proven how lusty he actually is. He feels aroused like hell. He feels outraged that she dares think, worse, voice her presumptions that he is not attracted by women, that he is a deviant who’d rather indulge in buggery with men. All of these conflicting emotions make him feel burn more and more, and his gut clench as he groans. 

She chuckles lightly as she turns around and walks back a few paces from them, letting them both pant in need on the spot.

“My name is Ros! I am a slave trainer in what, as you can guess, concerns the matters of sensuality, sexuality and pleasure. There is no slave who has ever gone under my hand and escaped unchanged. No matter how shy, or intimidated or introverted you are about anything sexual, you will learn to enjoy it and let everybody see the slut in you long before the end of your services here.” 

Jon feels enthralled by her voice, and although he still feels conflicting emotions burn in him, some part of him yearns to find out more about the kind of pleasures she can make him discover. Already, the sounds of other slaves making out and pleasuring themselves make his groin tenses in need and his whole body shivers in anticipation. 

“Now follow me young men! I’d like for us to get more comfortable so that we can chat further.” 

The enticing woman says as she sensuously walks to a low, excessively big bed in a more discrete corner of the room. It consists of a thick mattress on a wooden frame with high headboard and footboard as well as thick legs. It has been installed sideways inside the alcove, with a deep arcade behind the headboard in which several cups and a pitcher of wine rest, as well as a small chest and various other objects. 

There are no other bedded alcoves nearby, nor any other slaves copulating or doing whatever else in the vicinity. Only one torch burns some distance away, which makes the area quite isolated and dim in comparison to the rest of the room. The mistress of the room sits on the bed, her weight on one bent leg while the other one is extended and her back leans against cushions over the headboard. Her whole posture screams of sensuality, as her every move. She raises one hand and points the other side of the bed as a way to invite them over.

Theon is the first to comply and go sit in the same position than her, but against the footboard. Jon hesitates a while longer, but the heat look she gives him, as well as the impatient one coming from Theon, urges him to move and he finally goes sit on the mattress with the smooth, silky pink sheets. He notices that her smell is more intoxicating here, and he wonders if it’s her personal bed, or simply one in which she conducts her debauched activities with slaves. He’s still more tensed when he finally leans in a more comfortable position beside Theon. He realises with some heat in his cheeks that the bed can easily host half a dozen persons, and wonders if it has ever had.

He’s lost in his shaming thoughts when he hears a graceful cough, which brings him back to reality. He looks up and sees Ros extending a cup toward him. Theon is already sipping his thirstily. Jon certainly could use the alcohol, if only to dull somewhat the anguish and all the shame he feels about him and sexuality.

The sumptuous wine is velvety and thick on his tongue, so rich with spices and aromas that Jon has trouble discerning them all. He’s sure there’s a hint of cinnamon, and ginger, maybe even some kind of pepper, but he’s not sure. It burns his throat on his way down, and makes him feel impossibly warm in mere moments. He sits back more casually against the headboard behind him, and feels some of the tension inhabiting him ease away.

“How long have you been sporting those?” 

Ros asks in the same voice one would use to inquire about the weather. Jon is confused for quite a moment, then he sees the direction her eyes point and realise that she is talking about their erected sexes. 

As he realises he is still erected and leaking from the moment he left Burrich’s stables, arousal curses in him like a renewed fire which has had time to cool down before being revived with more force. He blushes, and feels burning hot all over again. Damn it, he desperately wants to release, and soon! 

“…Since we left Burrich’s place.” Theon replies.

Jon is brought back to reality when he hears Theon finish his answer to the woman’s question. His voice is assured, as if he is just praising the values of his own manhood, but Jon knows him enough by now to notice the small edge of despair and frustration under it. 

“It is master Burrich for you, slave! Never forget it!”

She admonishes with something hard in her eyes, her feathers merging ever so slightly in a menacing frown. But she soon turns back to her sweet, seductive self when she sees Theon cringe with unease and Jon gulp in anguish before hiding his face in his cup and swallowing nearly all of it to distract himself. 

He regrets it instantly. His head spins as the liquid burns in his gut and makes him feel like his blood has transformed into lava in his veins. He pants more deeply for breath and leans back against the head rest to alleviate most of hid dizziness. As he moves back, he feels the phallic plug shift in him, making his inner walls throb in decadent pleasure, while his cock pulse more and more with need for release. 

Jon looks on his side to see how Theon is faring so far. He too, seems quite affected by the strong wine, all blushing a bright scarlet as he leans comfortably against the headrest and look at the young mistress with desire and lust in his eyes.  
He looks back in his wine, scrutinizing it as if by looking at it intently enough he’ll be able to piece out its components. 

“It’s drugged!” Jon states with abashment.

Ros snorts then put her own cup aside before crawling the short distance separating her from him and Theon on all fours, her motion graceful and seductive. She grabs the two near empty cups from their grasp, after which she bends over to put them on the floor, out of reach.

When she is done, she smiles at them with something malicious in the curves of her lips, in the shine of her eyes.

“You’re a smart one, Jon. I admit it, I slipped something wicked in the wine. A really potent aphrodisiac, the most potent one actually. The Maesters call it the Decadent Damnation, because once you are under its effects, you are doomed to become crazed with lust. For hours your blood will burn with the most ardent desires, you will be consumed by the fire of need and will have to satisfy it, over, and over, and over until your body cannot take anymore. You can already feel it, isn’t it? The burning desire coursing in your veins, the fire of lust burning in your gut and begging for a release. Your head feels light and heavy both, and you cannot think of anything else than to indulge in your carnal needs.”

She murmurs between the two of them, her voice seducing as she fakes an expression of conspiracy with them. Jon wants to curse her, or to push her back violently against the mattress and scream at her that he is not a meek cub to be messed with, or even pull away and get as far away from the mesmerising woman to see if it could clear his mind. But she is right. He feels need pour in him like never before. His body is already all flustered and sweaty, feeling on fire as he feels lust pour in his groin and waves of pleasure each times he clenches his sensitive inner walls against the massive intruder in his backside, thing he cannot force himself to stop doing for some reason. 

Theon says nothing, but lets out a moan as his eyes roam over her soft, appealing curves, then over Jon’s hard lines down to his erected member, alternating between the two of them with open desire. Both their sexes are now all purplish and swollen, leaking precome like small fountains. 

And the gods be damned, there’s so much Jon can take! With all the anguish, the tormenting, the sexual frustrations and the tiredness he has endured in the last hours, plus the living hell he has been in since the second day of his slavery, it is a wonder Jon hasn’t snapped before. But now he does. There is no way in hell he can fight against the devious drug and how needy it makes him feel, so he might as well enjoy it some.

He welcomes the kiss, when the sensual slave trainer snatches his jaws with one hand and covers his mouth. He tries to fight for dominance right away, putting one hand on her shoulder to gives himself some support. But where he is passionate and clumsy with inexperience, she is slow and sensuous, as well as in total control of her motions. When he tries to put his tongue in her, she bites his tongue teasingly, before nipping his lower lip and licking it until he welcomes her in his mouth. After a while, he starts reproducing her expert ministration, and groans in satisfaction when she let him put his tongue in her mouth. She urges him to slow down the kiss until the kiss become nearly lazy and sloppy, his mind totally lost in a haze of lust while his mouth acts on what feels good.

He whines when the other mouth leaves him, accompanied by the hand on his jaws, as well as the one he hasn’t notices was pulling at his curls. He feels lost and craving for touch all of a sudden, but realises that he needed the air as his lungs fill blissfully with breath. He leans back more comfortable against the pillows and watch with desire as the red hair woman kisses Theon, teaching him as she has done Jon how to deepen the kiss, make it slower and more sensuous while keeping it as passionate. 

Jon still isn’t sure he wants to get more intimate with Ros, having realised a while ago that women seem alien and too foreign for him. Besides, he has always dreaded the idea of planting his seeds in one, fearing that another Snow would be born and would suffer has he has all his life. His eyes settle on Theon as the both of them keep kissing, and his eyes cannot leave the hard lines of his jaws, the strong edges of his lean torso and the tight muscles on his wiry arms as he embrace the woman against him to deepen the kiss. Jon salivates more at the sight of him in the throes of passion than he has ever done a woman. He whines again as his desire to replace the mistress in the other man’s arms get stronger in his mind. Damned the aphrodisiac, for making him realise how much in need for a man he is!

The red hair woman finally pulls off to let Theon breath. He has his eyes closed, and his swollen lips are partially parted, a net of drool shining at the tip of his mouth. His cheeks are flushed a bright red.

“Go kiss him! You crave for it!” 

The mistress mutters in his ear, looking in his eyes with mischief and mirth in her own blue eyes. She smiles before reaching his closest arm, then pushes him softly but with insistence until he straddles Theon’s legs and puts his hands on his shoulders. Jon hesitates there for a moment more, giving time for Theon to realise what his intentions are. He dreads the moment the Ironborn will open his eyes and realises that Jon wants to kiss him. He fears he will push him away, enraged by his deviant interests in male’s flesh. Yet, when Theon finally opens his eyes, they are hooded with desire, and barely two heartbeats later he’s pulling Jon’s mouth on his with his two hands in his hairs. Jon is so shocked that for a small while he’s as stiff as a board. But then Theon slowly licks his lower lip and pulls at it with his own, nibbling it from time to time, and Jon soon opens his mouth to kiss back with eagerness.

They haven’t kissed much over the last fortnights, since they were made slave. There has been that kiss the first day, then one or two others among the painful days which have followed. So it comes as a surprise when the both of them find themselves teasing each other with their lips, their tongues and their teeth as if they have done so a hundred times before rather than two or three. The both of them fight for dominance, with clashes of teeth and bites of lips before settling to a smoother pace, then resting with their foreheads on each other to breath before going back to their kisses.

After a while of that they both seem to get desperate to learn each other’s body with their hands. Fingers run over collarbones, then over the chest to pinch the small erected nubs before palming the sensitive skin and tease that even more sensitive one under the belly button, just before getting to the bush of curly hairs.  
¸  
After a while, Jon settles more comfortably on Theon’s laps letting his jutting manhood brush against Theon’s one, their juices mixing over their skins as they slowly rubs their sexes together, reminding him of the painful state of arousal they are in. They both become a frenetic moaning mess of drool, juices and tangled limbs after that, desperate to get more friction. And both moaning in desperate frustration when they realises they cannot achieve their release while they still have their harnesses on. 

Two hands split them apart, and it takes them a small while to figure out that they belong to the mistress.

“Enough of that, boys!” She says in a commanding voice. She makes a dramatic pause, then adds a moment latter “I think it’s due time we get to more serious matters.” 

Theon and Jon, whose eyes have been on the mistress while she talked, share a look of confusion, still panting near each other. Jon can feel Theon’s hot breath on his shoulder, and his feverish body craves to get even closer against the other male’s body, to feel the smooth skin and the hard muscles against him. He wants to kiss and lave with his tongue every inches of the other male’s body. He wants to wrap his lips around his hard juicy cock and swallow it to the root, until he choke with it, before teasing it with his tongue and seeing what sounds he can produce from his victim. Jon wants to feel it tear his backside apart and pound in it nearly as much, if not more, than Jon wants to bury his own cock in the other’s opened hole. By the gods, the raw needs and the debauched visions the damned aphrodisiac gives to his mind will certainly get him in hells. 

A thumb brushes his lower lips, and Jon looks at it, then follow the whole arm with his eyes until it meets with the shoulder. When he looks at Theon, his eyes are hooded with desire and Jon has the feeling that they are sharing the same debased mindset.

“Jon, get down on all four and suck Theon as if he’s offered you the sweetest treat in the world.”

It takes a small while for his hazy mind to process the order, but the moment he gets what Ros has ordered, he wastes no time into obeying it, his mouth salivating at the interesting prospect.

Their needs are becoming so urgent that he wastes no time into discovering Theon’s body on his way down. He gives a few kisses here and there, tracing quite urgently his way down. He has no other choice than to back off from his sitting position on Theon’s laps, losing the contact with their sexes in doing so. But he’s quite glad to get on all four, his back automatically arched in a provocative way, to finally get his mouth on the musky treasure between Theon’s legs. 

Dazed with lust, Jon gives one long lick from the root to the leaky tip, then swallows the salty, musky phallus into his mouth. Theon and him both moan in unison, Theon for the pleasure of the warm mouth on his throbbing cock, Jon for the pleasure of finally tasting a real, fleshy cock between his palate and his tongue. The wooden phalluses do not compare to that feeling even slightly. 

He bobs his head repeatedly to thrusts the cock in and out of his mouth, so eager that his motions are hurried in his urge to get more and more of it. A hand in his hairs slow down his motions, imposing him a slow, sensuous rhythm, rather than his frenzied cadence of earlier. He realises as he hears the voice of the mistress in his ears that she is the one doing so.

“Slower, my eager Cub! You don’t want to rush this. Each time you will be asked to perform, you must go slowly, in the most erotic way so as to give the best show. Nobody wants to see two persons consume their passion in some mere heartbeats. Always take your time to enjoy the act fully.” 

She says in a calm, patient tone, as if she is teaching him how to hold a bow rather than how to mouth a man. Jon moans to gives his ascent, the vibration of it against Theon’s cock making the other man moan in shameless pleasure. Jon moans lowly again just to hear the debased sounds coming out of Theon’s mouth. 

“See, the rhythm is already better. It gives you the time to trace the veins with your tongue, to flicker your tongue on the head, to play with the foreskin before going down again. Yes, like that!” 

She praises as she sees Jon doing exactly as she instructs. Theon, as for himself, keens and whines in a way which could be confused with pain, but is belied by his small pleas for more. 

“Now you’ll swallow more and more that delectable piece of flesh. It might make you choke at first, but you’ll get used to it. Just remember to breathe through your nose.” 

The mistress instructs, then proceeds to get Jon’s lower and lower on the amazingly warm manhood. He does gag as the head of the cock hits the back of his throat, tears forming in his eyes as he forces himself to control his regurgitating reflexes. But as the voluptuous woman said, he gets used to it after a while. His heart throbs with amazement and pride when his nose finally hits the damp bush of hairs on Theon’s pubis, his nose filling with the scent of musk and arousal there as Theon cries a screech of bliss. 

Jon is so aroused by the throbbing cock in his mouth and the power he has over Theon, being able to produce all kinds of desperate sounds with only his mouth that his legs spread on their own accord and thrust in the empty air, desperate for friction on his cock, or being pounded into by another cock, or both. He doesn’t know anymore, just that he’s desperate. 

“Theon, be kind to our dear cock-sucker here and give him back some pleasure."

Either Theon is too confused or innocent to understand what the mistress meant, or he’s so lost in his own pleasure that he barely notices her talking. Jon has no doubt that it’s the later. But it does take a while before Theon moves and bends himself over Jon, one hand on the mattress to support his weight while the other one traces his spine to slowly caress the crease between his cheeks. When he grasps the base of the phallus still stuck in Jon’s ass and pulls it out, Jon tenses all over and gasps wantonly around his mouthful. Damned it, the nerves there are on fire!

And thus starts a vicious circle of pleasure. Each time Theon thrusts the wooden cock in Jon’s needy ass, Jon moans and gasps in pleasure, which creates decadent sensations on Theon’s cock, who moans and gasps in pleasure himself, after which he resumes his movements. It doesn’t take long for them to become a tangled mess of moans and wet noises. The pleasure of it all is so intense that his body starts to hurt from the strain of being kept unable to reach their peak. Jon’s mouth is full, so he cannot voice anything, but Theon keeps crying and begging for release between his moans of pleasure.

Jon is disturbed when he feels the hand, which he hadn’t even notices was gone, come back on his curls to pull him back at the tip of Theon’s cock. He’s so lost in pleasure and desire that he fights against it for a small while, desirous to go back to his sucking and licking. But then he feels a hand sneak between his mouth and Theon’s groin. _Is this possible_ ? His doubts are confirmed with the mistress’s next words.

“Careful now, pets. I’m going to release you, Theon. You will hold it in long enough for me to fully remove the harness before coming. And you, Jon, keep it in your mouth. You may swallow some of Theon’s juices if you feel like you’re about to swallow, but keep as much as you can in your mouth. Understood pet?”

The mistress asks after having given her instructions. Right now Theon is so lost in sensations, and relieved by the words, that he only mutters a “Yes, Ma’am” Before going back to panting. Jon, as for himself, doesn’t feel like fighting against the hand holding him there, nor to try to talk around his mouthful. So he simply gives a double moan of ascent, making Theon cry over him.

After that, Jon sees it all happen in succession like the time has been put to slow motion, while it happens in mere heartbeats. The mistress release the last clasp over Theon’s bindings, making him gasps as his cock his pulled free, and then she removes the binding from the root of his cock and his sack. Theon gives two or three frenetic thrusts of his hips, making Jon gasps in surprised delight, then he feels strong pulses run through the organ in his mouth, and warm spurts of warm, salty fluid explode in his mouth. 

It could nearly make him laugh, the way Theon silently gasps a silent cry, a high pitch sound coming from deep in his throat, while his whole body tenses in a way anyone could believe air is buying aspired from him. But Jon is too busy trying to keep all the bitter-salty fluid in his mouth, swallowing mere trickle of it so as to not swallow. He gives Theon a while to enjoy his afterglow, barely moving his tongue so as to not overwhelm the now over-sensitised flesh. He would enjoy it himself much more if he was not still so aroused that it clouded his judgement. Right now his hips are still thrusting helplessly in the air, Theon’s hand unmoving against the intruder in him. 

Once the limb is mostly deflated, Jon lets it slip out of his mouth, pursing his lips carefully around the head so as to let the minimal amount of seeds escape his mouth. He’s proud when he sees barely a small net of it stick on Theon’s cock, yet totally confused as to what to do after. He looks at his own swollen, angry looking cock, still trapped in its harness, then at the mistress with desperate eyes, like a kicked puppy. A small, pitiful whine resounds against his closed lips, and small tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. _Damned it, he sooo needs to come_ ! 

He lowers his eyes in misery when he sees the red hair woman smile, then chuckle at the sight of his miserable state. Hell, he feels so hot and feverish with his lust, that it feels like his face has been dipped in boiling water when he blushes in shame at the thought of how debauched he’s been reduced to. A hand cups his left cheek, and he closes his eyes as he leans against it, hungry for more contact. 

“You’re doing so well, Jon. You should look at yourself, the perfect image of decadence. Here, let me help you. Just remember to keep Theon’s juices in your mouth; do not swallow any more of it before I tell you to!”

The woman says as she helps Jon gets back in a half lying, half sitting position over the cushions against the headboard. He lets himself being manoeuvred like a rag doll, too desperate to fight against it when she spread his legs wide open, like the most wanton whore. When she rubs his straining cock with the lightest touch possible, his hips buckle in a desperate attempt to get more friction and he whines again in a pleading way, lips closed so as to not lose any drop of seeds. A small part of him finds it shaming and degrading that he still has to keep the salty fluid in his mouth, still having a hard time facing the idea of indulging in any sexual debauchery. But this part is becoming so tiny, while a bigger and bigger part of him delights in the feel of the warm, bitter-salty substance on his tongue, the smell of it filling his nose and making him feel aroused as hell. It’s a torment to not get to swallow it, to feel it trickle down his throat and settle in his stomach. He salivates for it, and has to swallow small diluted amounts of the seeds so that his mouth does not overflow from the excess of liquid in it. And _gods_ , he’s so crazed with lust by the taste of it 

“Theon, don’t you think Jon deserves some gratitude for having treated you with so much dedication? Get down there and show him how much you appreciate his kindness.”

The mistress orders, looking smug, and aroused as she eyes Jon’s wanton state, then Theon’s debauched body, slumped by his orgasm just beside Jon. He groans in lazy contentment, before turning his head to look at Jon and chuckling at his desperate state.

Yet a really small while later, he’s crawling between Jon’s spread legs, his mouth licking a long strip on Jon’s sex from the root to the tip, before engulfing it all in his burning mouth. A fulgurate spasm run through Jon, and he has to bit his lip nearly to the blood so as to not open his mouth on the gasp begging to breach the barrage of his lips. Somehow he does manage to keep his lips sealed and Theon’s warm fluids in his mouth, though it costs him greatly.

He would have exploded right away if his genitals were not trapped in their harness, but instead he must bear the torment of being pleasured by a so hot mouth on his cock. His whole body is wrecked by spasms and shivers as Theon reproduces the exact same ministrations Jon has been doing to him a short while ago, first with clumsiness and awkwardness, and then later with more assurance and deviousness. Theon gets his mouth as deep as it can get, contracting his cheeks as he suctions his cock in a way which makes Jon go crazed, then teasing its head with devious twists of his tongue. He also takes advantage of Jon’s opened position to keep playing with the plug in his ass, eliciting the most delicious sensations to explode in his rear and flicker through his whole body. Jon keeps moaning, and then crying muffling cries of bliss when Theon moans around his cock, his eyes looking up at Jon to observe his assured, steady undoing. He can even perceive his trademark, cocky smile through his stretched lips. 

He feels like his heart will explodes, hell, his whole body even, when finally Ros gets her hand between Theon’s mouth and Jon’s groin. His mind is too dazed to process the whole cascade of softly spoken words, yet he somehow get that he is not to come yet, and that he must remember to keep Theon’s seeds in his mouth until she tells him otherwise. He most have nodded at some point, because the next thing he knows, his genitals are finally released from their restraints. 

Theon thrusts his mouth two times over Jon’s cock, and just as the pressure increase in him to a point where he will either explode or die, a point he knows is of no return, the command “Swallow!” is whispered in his ear. Without any second though, Jon complies, and swallows his mouthful of warm, tasty seeds, letting the thick mess trickle down his throat. His climax is instant. Bliss explodes through his burning body and he spasms all over as his mouth opens in a shocked cry, life seeming to be drained off of him with each spurt of come he releases in Theon’s mouth.

He barely registers it when Theon’s mouth leaves Jon’s cock to lie beside him, the appendage now totally over-sensitised, any kinds of contact to it being unbearably intolerable.

Mistress Ros is clement toward them. She lets them rest as their body recuperate from the long hours of being on the edge, then reaching the strongest kind of release. She pats their hairs, and whispers softly to their ears how good they have been, how pleased she is with them, how great it was to look at them being all debauched all over.

She even brings cups to their lips. Filled with the same wine as earlier. Jon cannot care any less. The pleasure is just too great, and his body is too weak to fight against it. 

He doesn’t get angry, or resentful or even ashamed when he feels some echo of arousal spike in him again. He just accepts that his body can feel good. That there is great pleasure to be found once sexuality is embraced. After that it just gets easier and easier.

When Ros lay down on her end of the mattress, her upper body propped up by cushions while her legs are spread wide open, and then commands them to go please her, Theon and Jon comply; Theon because he’s already aroused by the feminine body offered, Jon because he reveals into using his hands and his mouth to get his bed partner undone, and to distract him from the arousal rising in him with the promise of more sexual decadences coming his way.

He does kiss her when she prompts him to with a finger on his chin, and combs his hand through her fiery curls. She teaches the both of them how to caress a woman, how to cups her breasts and play with her nipples, telling them how to do it better. It’s made easier for Jon because he loses himself to obeying her directive, not looking too much at the fact that it’s a female body he’s pleasuring, and not the comforting, well-known male one. When the both of them kiss and caress their way to her lower fiery hairs, her sex totally exposed to their eyes and their hands, they discover how dripping wet she is, how musky and warm she smells down there. She touches herself to instruct them as to where to touch a woman, and how, and with which kind of pressure. Then she lets them mouth her, Jon licking the small nub while Theon dips his tongue in her wet hole. 

She sighs as they get to their inexperienced buccal ministrations, then let out moans which get louder and more filled by pleasure the more confident and experienced they get. It’s Jon’s turn to have his tongue in her hole when she reaches her peak. By now he’s already hard again and leaking from the arousing smell and taste between her legs, and the heady feeling of knowing he’s getting her totally undone with pleasure. He’s been thrusting his tongue in and out slowly, giving hard jab at her entrance before dipping his tongue in and flicking it around, when suddenly she gasps, and tenses all over, and her orifice clenches so hard on Jon’s tongue that he’s both scared of losing his appendage, and impressed by the strength of her clenching fits. She cries, and he continues to thrust his tongue in her, while Theon his nibbling at her clits, eyes hooded by desire.

After she has kissed them savagely to praise them for having done, she gratifies Theon of coupling with her, knowing instinctively that Jon would rather not do so. So, Theon breaches her with his virgin manhood, his expression of surprised ecstasy belying his absence of experience with women. And after she has instructed him about how to move his cock in her, how to get slower, powerful thrusts rather than fast shallow ones, how to angle himself in her so that he hits the spot which has her go mad with lust, she instructs Jon to get behind Theon and “have his first taste of anal penetration.”

He feels feverish with trepidation as het gets behind the other boy, who looks at him with such lusty eyes before angling his neck so that he can kiss him languorously before turning back to the mistress to lose himself in her tight embrace and her sensuous kisses. He moans lewdly when Jon pulls the fat wooden phallus out of his stretched hole, the glistening muscle clenching hungrily over thin air, stretched enough that even at its tightest, the opening is still distended enough that Jon can see the dark pink walls waiting for him. The sight is so obscene, yet Jon drools and feels his cock pulse and strain as he feels burnt by arousal.

He cannot resist bending behind Theon and closes the gap between his enticing rear and his own mouth. A long swipe of his tongue in the crack have Theon gasps and tenses all over, hips immobilised against Ros, who muffles his kisses with her mouth. When Jon dips his tongue in the still shuttering rim, and thrust it fully in the burning hot channel, Theon cries out and spreads his legs for more. Jon takes pleasure into getting Theon all debauched and needy by practicing on him the gestures Ros has just taught them. He dabs at the entrance with his tongue, then traces the round muscle with the point of his tongue, before dipping it in and thrusting languorously. Theon tenses and his back arches as he cries wantonly. 

Jon cannot hold his desire anymore. In rush moves he straightens up and go back on his knees, then grabs Theon’s hips before thrusting his virgin cock in one, fast motion. The shock of it nearly makes him come right away. It’s so tight, and so hot, yet pliant around his cock. Theon cries even more lewdly, his whole body shaking with the effort of remaining upright, and mostly of not coming so soon. He takes a break, remaining immobile so as to regain control of himself and Jon takes advantage of the moment to settle himself more firmly on the mattress, between Theon’s spread legs.

Jon waits until Theon’s hole has stopped clenching around his cock before pulling back, then forth again. It’s awkward at first, Jon needing some breaks once in a while so as to not come too soon, while Theon loses control of his motions over Ros. But with her guiding hands, and her patient voice, she gets them to move more and more fluidly, and with assurance. The cadence remains languorous and forceful, letting them enjoy the great intimacy the decadent pleasure even longer. 

When they finally climax, it’s a thing of beauty, something Jon would have never even dares to imagine, even in his most debauched fantasies. The whole of it happens so fast that it’s nearly simultaneous. Ros is the first, moaning like the most lecherous whore. She tenses all over, and her nails scratch Theon’s arms as she cries brokenly. The strong spasms of her crevasse send Theon over the edge, who cries as brokenly as her, before tensing and biting in her shoulder as he shakes like a board would under the influence of an earthquake. And then the contractions of Theon’s entrance as he reaches his peak send Jon over the edge too, moaning a high pitch sound which would shame him if his mind could be bothered to think about something else than the powerful orgasm exploding in him. 

Jon feels so drained and lax by this second, strong orgasm, that he barely takes the time to get his softening cock out of Theon, eliciting an obscene plop from the wet orifice and a lazy moan from Theon, before he lets himself fall on his side on over the cushions, panting as hard as if he has just made another run around Winterfell. Ros wastes no more time helping a nearly fainted Theon rolls over so that she can breathe more easily. Jon has barely closed his eyes to enjoy the calm after the storm, so as to speak, that some hand clapping nearby startle him. He looks up, only to see Robb, Master Robb as a voice in his head chides, looking at them with eyes burning with desire.

“I’m glad to see you seem to feel better about sexuality, pets.” 

Robb says in a half considerate, half teasing voice. Jon watches lazily as the young Lord calmly walks toward the bed, and then casually sits on the edge of the mattress. Jon is so dazed from the downsides of his strong climaxes; feeling sated, and contended as well as drowsy. He remembers feeling angry, and resentful toward Robb, ever since waking up the morning following his enslavement. He remembers feeling rebellious at the thought of strutting naked so that everybody would see him, and being sexually degraded in front of the people he has grown with. Yet he cannot muster an ounce of any of it up. He holds the stare of the young man who has once been his brother, he’s most precious confident and only friend, and feels at a lost when he sees a little bit of the young genuine boy in the now grown man. When Robb’s lips curl ever so slightly into a warm smile, Jon finds himself smiling back to him.

Jon closes his eyes for a while after that. He hears Robb and Ros talk softly about something, but Jon drifts in and out of the conversation, comprehending that Rob was late, but not for which reason, and that Ros has heard the day has went well so far, but not by whom, and that her training went surprisingly well, but not the how or the why of it.

Jon is startled out of his slumber when Robb goes sit behind him and Theon and lifts their heads over his naked laps to fondle them like he would do cats. As he runs soothing hands over their lips, the young lord tell them that it’s okay to let their body know pleasure, that it is healthy and perfectly fine. He keeps giving them reassuring words that they don’t need to fight it anymore, that they will feel even better when they just accept it and embrace their sexuality. Jon still feels like there’s something wrong with letting everybody see how lusty he can get, but Robb words comfort him somewhat. He says nothing, and just let the caressing hand comfort him.

He feels another weight deepen the mattress between him and Theon’s lower body, and barely a heartbeat later, hands caress their hips, and their stomach, even the sensitive skin down their belly button. He doesn’t know if it’s just him, but it feels like the hands are trying to renew their arousal with more and more insistence. And curse the damned aphrodisiac, Jon is starting to feel his groin, hell, his whole body, sparkles and get warmer with desire by the minute. He closes his eyes again, feeling an edge of desperation fill him. Yet Theon in front of him has his eyes half hooded with desire again, his lips slightly parted as he pants and sighs, his body reacting well to the touch. Jon feels his own body being pulled out of its torpor, and the sight of Robb looking at them with desire, his manhood erected not three inches from both slaves’ face and overwhelming their nose with the smell of arousal, is enough to make both him and Theon needy again.

There’s no hesitation or resistance when Robb urges them to get closer to his cock. He spreads his legs and Jon and Theon simply crawl between them, licking and tasting the salty and musky organ. It’s Jon who gets to swallow the penis first, sucking and playing with his tongue on it as if he has done it all his life. Theon, as for himself, goes lower and licks the sac of balls, then takes one in his mouth, before taking the other one and so on. Robb sighs over them, his hands still tangled in their hairs as he caresses them like pets. 

The hands on their own body gets bolder and bolder, caressing the hairy patched of skin just over the base of their cock, then caressing their inner tight. They even play with their backside, making them moan as fingers run down the tear between their buttocks, and play with their sensitive entrance. Jon is reminded of the fat phallus still being in him when Ros thrusts it back and forth in him, and he starts moaning like a bitch in heat as raging pleasure fills his rear and makes him shiver all over. Hell, he’s feeling at the lowest debasement as it comes to his mind that he can now have something stuck in him for hours and forgetting all about it as if it is the most normal thing. It still surprises him how much pleasure there is to be found in having this tiny, most secret place of him being played with. He would have never thought it possible, but the merest touch there can make him feel as aroused and needy as the most lecherous whore.

He whines with lost when the phallus is finally removed from his fluttering channel, the void left in him having him removes his mouth from Robb to beg to have something, anything , filling him again. Robb lifts his chin with two fingers at that moment to look him in the eyes.

“Is this really what you want, Jon? You want to have that needy hole of yours filled again?” Robb asks calmly, his voice nearly concerned. Jon can only nod to that, his mouth still filled by Robb’s cock.

“Say it! I want you to admit it.” He orders softly. 

Jon hesitates barely a heartbeat before lifting his mouth off of Robb’s cock, then opening his mouth to talk.

“I want it! Please, master, fill that needy hole of mine. I want it! I need it!”

He feels his face blush with shame as words he didn’t want to say pour out of his mouth of their own volition. But he feels way better once they’re out of his mouth.

What follows next will be burnt in Jon’s memory as the most fulfilling sex he has ever had. Robb and Ros urge him and Theon to turn on the bed, Jon on his back, Theon over him, but on the reverse, so that they can still suck each other. Then Robb goes position himself behind Jon, and lifts his hips so that his cock is level and aligned to Jon’s fluttering hole, his legs bent around Robb’s waist. And then he’s filled by the warm, pulsing cock. The pleasure cannot be more exhilarating with his hole plundered vigorously, his cock being sucked in Theon’s well-practiced mouth, and his own hungry mouth filled with a hot, hard as hell cock. Ros even participates by fingering Theon’s anus, making him moan around Jon’s cock, thus making Jon moan around Theon’s cock and so on. Robb imposes his own languorous rhythm, and Theon and he match the thrusts of their mouth to it. There is no way to describe how deliriously good Jon feels at so much decadent pleasure. The fact that they have already climaxed two times allow Theon and Jon to enjoy themselves fully, for a longer time than if they would have done it while still desperate to release like they were when they first entered the room.

But there is so much they can take. Robb angles his cock to pounder against Jon’s special spot on each thrust, which makes him come harder than he has ever had. He moans, and cries around Theon’s cock, and the vibration of it on Theon’s cock, as well as the contractions of his anus on Robb’s one, make them explode with groans and cries the next instant.

Later, when they finally lie back again on the large bed, their body limp and lax from their multiple orgasm, Theon and Jon watch bemusedly as Robb kisses Ros and fingers her until she climaxes again, her whole body tensing and shuttering as she moans and whines in bliss.

It’s only when Robb pulls off of her and extends his arm around a cup of whine laying in the small arcade behind the bed that they react. But by the time they see Robb move, and their dulled mind process what he’s doing and figure things out, the young lord is already drinking the wine.

“No, don’t…!”

“Robb, no!”

They both start to say, startled and heart racing with the implication that they will be having sex the whole night. But the young lord finishes the cup, then sighs with satisfaction before looking at them, his eyes filling with concern the moment he sees horror painted on their face. 

“What is it?” He asks them, then looks at the cup as if fearing only now that it is empty that it could have been poisoned.

“It’s spiked with a really potent aphrodisiac!” Jon says, looking resigned to be forced into sex again, his body so wrecked and exhausted that the idea of having more sex makes him shudder with dread.

“Really?” He asks with a small smile, one brow raised in question as he looks at them both, then at Ros. “It seems to me like the wine is totally fine. There’s a hint of ginger and cinnamon, to give a better taste and feel more aroused. But nothing strong enough to be compared to a potent aphrodisiac” He says patiently.

“But… she said it was the most potent aphrodisiac, the Debauched Decadence, or Damned Debauchery or something.” Theon says with a confused frown on his face.

“The Decadent Damnation.” Jon provides, feeling a heavy, uneasy sensation sinking in his chest. Please, not that!

They all look at the mistress, who his reclined on the cushions, lying on her side in the most sensuous way. She is smiling at them, eyes shining with mischief.

“Ooops! I lied!” She purrs with a lazy smile. “I thought it might help you let go of all your senseless inhibitions and resistances. And my, I have never seen any slave go so much into debauchery with so little prompting on their first time here! You are totally made for sex and I wanted you to see it!”

“But all the lust… and the arousal…” Jon stammers numbly.

“Were all yours! _Only_ you!” She states with a voice which leaves no room for argumentation. 

Ros chuckles with mirth, and Robb laughs out loud as Jon lets himself fall back on the mattress with a sigh, eyes closing while Theon raises a hand to hand to cover his eyes and let out a dismayed groan. He doesn’t even want to go there, or to think about the implications of the Mistress’ admission.

* * * * * 

EPILOGUE 

After the events of that first day of having Jon and Theon being sent to the expert trainers in Winterfell, it all becomes easier and easier between Robb and his slaves. Even if it’s still hard to admit their own lusts and needs after Ros has tricked them, Jon and Theon both have to accept the truth she has made them realise.

They enter monotony after that first day. Each morning they are sent to Burrich and his helpers to be physically trained and exhausted, before their handlers clean them and tend to them like they would do with actual horses. After a while, when the master deem they are ready for it, Theon and Jon are made to pull small carts and wheelbarrows behind them to help the small folk, like labor horses. In the afternoon, either for the whole of it or only for a few hours, they are sent to Vayon Poole or one of his maids so that they can experience the physical labour of tending to a castle or its people. Sometimes they are sent to Mistress Ros afterward, so that she could train them more into sexual matters, but some other time Robb comes to them or retrieve them so that he can do the same in the intimacy of his rooms, reaffirming his ownership of them.

They are still regularly asked to perform sexual acts in the hall, in front of everyone else. And if Jon and Theon cringe with dread the first time they are asked to actually couple in public, Jon being asked to fuck Theon until he climaxes, before releasing his own seeds on his offered, opened backside; well, he has to accept that his body is feeling perfectly thrilled by the order, and he performs dutifully. He is even pleased by the way their spectators clap their hands after, feeling like he finally belongs among them, even if it is below every one of them, and in such a debased way. By the look in Theon’s eyes, he feels the same.

Their walls crumble day after day, until the day come when they accept fully their status as slaves of the North.

END 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is something I've been asking myself recently, and if people could help me with it, it would be really appreciated!  
> I'm wondering If I should post my next fics as independent works, with their own titles and everything, or create a collection named Behind Closed Doors and submit my works in there rather than to gather all these fics together? My initial purpose was to simplify my life by creating one work, then adding my different fics like chapters, because they all share the same pairings, as well as really similar contexts (my future ones will anyway)  
> But do you think it gets too heavy, or would have better advantages at being posted as their own instead as in chapters?


End file.
